tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596Fri, 01 Dec 2017 10:52:34 +0000youNitty grittydetailsmomentsNairobi lifechangeparadigm shiftEpiphanylistsnostalgialol momentsrelationshipsFoodNew beginningsOptimismrealisationovercoming fearGodRecipesfutureBibleHealthMoving onMed schoolself-confidenceFamilyfriendsWritingLovePoliticsBook reviewsholidaysLet-downsPoetrybloggingIndiaThe oneWanderlustHair JourneyThe artsForgivenessliesRandom Thoughts of a Girl in NairobiThe world; how I see it, how I think of it and how God show's it to mehttp://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/noreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)Blogger155125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-2291171746523700375Sun, 09 Jul 2017 20:06:00 +00002017-07-10T08:55:13.258+03:00changedetailslistsMed schoolmomentsNew beginningsNitty grittyyouI’m finally a doctor, now what?!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MaoOvcAzbo0/WWKMqv6A4uI/AAAAAAAAPU4/gZClIPRrUXET0bF4GHhuuZ0mCWuY0chOwCLcBGAs/s1600/20170709_230129.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="892" data-original-width="854" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MaoOvcAzbo0/WWKMqv6A4uI/AAAAAAAAPU4/gZClIPRrUXET0bF4GHhuuZ0mCWuY0chOwCLcBGAs/s400/20170709_230129.jpg" width="382"></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">&nbsp; &nbsp;It’s officially 7 months post-graduation. The gifts and congratulations have stopped rolling in. Not that that was the focus of my attention. Man, I was just glad to be done with med school. Now I get to annoy my friends by wistfully saying things like, “When I was in campus…” or “when I was a student…” &nbsp;As if that was a million years ago.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;That heady euphoria is long-gone and replaced by a different kind of euphoria. I’ve been working and doing actual doctor things for the past 6 weeks and it’s surreal at times. It’s also really exciting. There are aspects of internship that I was prepared for and others that I heavily underestimated. Some things I just did not see coming. It’s been a learning curve though and the good thing is that I work somewhere where everybody is willing to teach. So I’ll highlight some of the things I’ve learned and experienced so far:<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"><o:p><br></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->You become someone’s boss.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">It is day 1 and you’re still trying to remember where the bathroom is but you are also technically supposed to be giving the nurses and clinical officer interns instructions. Someone goes like, “Daktari what would you advise?” And you’re just standing there frantically trying to remember what Medscape says you should do.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Yes it is possible to work for 36 hours straight on just 2 hours of sleep<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">My first call was kind of scary. I knew that I’d have help but I was worried about whether or not I’d be able to figure-out what was wrong with the patients and what to do for them after all those years of med-school. I was worried that my clinical skills were rusty. I was also excited at the prospect of doing the real thing.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">I was woken up at 2 am for a patient in the High dependency unit who was deteriorating. It’s the kind of phone call that floods your system with so much adrenaline that you find yourself instantly awake and moving. I didn’t hesitate to call my senior because I’d rather ask for help than potentially endanger a patient’s life with false bravado. I also wasn’t sure what I’d be walking into. My senior was really nice about it and we walked to the hospital together (<i>we happened to be living in the same house at the time</i>). We saw the patient and made a decision concerning management and stood there till it was done and the patient showed signs of improvement. I went back to bed at 3am and woke up at 5am to start a brand new day (<i>a very long day</i>) that ended at 5pm.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Coffee is essential<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">Some call-nights are calm and I sleep like a baby all the way till morning. Others have me constantly walking up and down the hospital corridors until I find myself in the next morning and all I can do is run on coffee and good intentions. You get bonus points for owning a travel mug.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Sleep when you can<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">After a call, before a call. During a call that seems to not have much going on. Especially if you’re not particularly assured of the next time you’ll get a good-nights rest.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Use free time to do fun things.<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">I’m constantly learning and re-learning and sharpening skills. Work hours can get crazy. So if you have an opportunity to unwind, take it! You have no idea just how much you need it. Exercise, read a book. Catch-up with friends. You are a holistic human being, not just a machine that spouts out drug dosages. Besides, the quality of service you give your patients is directly proportional to your personal well-being. If you are in a sucky mood it’s generally likely to spill-over to your professional life too.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>6.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Your people-skills matter<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">How you convey news and information could mean the difference between a patient consenting to appropriate treatment or them deciding that they are being mismanaged or them deciding to give up... Patients are scared and sometimes want instant solutions which we can’t provide, and it’s important to help them understand what it is that’s happening to them and what you can and can’t do to fix it. Some people need to be coaxed, others need tough love and it’s your job to figure-out who’s who.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">Also, you will occasionally run into patients who think they know more than you and you don’t get to be rude or mean to them no matter what they say. Say it with me: P.E.O.P.L.E S.K.I.L.L.S.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>7.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Be nice to the people you are working with<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">You don’t get to boss nurses around just because you can. You need them. They teach you things and they carry out the orders you write and they can generally make your life difficult. They actually know more than you do especially when you’re just starting out. So be nice. Humility doesn’t really cost you anything. I once had a nurse call me to the ward to do a procedure and found that she’d gone and laid out for me all the equipment I’d need. If that isn’t a blessing then I don’t know what is.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>8.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Look-up what you don’t know or better yet, ask for help<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">Let’s be honest. Leaving med-school, you know the dosages of like 5 drugs because you weren’t prescribing them anyway and crammed information always fades at some point. The fact that you start work a number of months after graduation doesn’t really help that much. &nbsp;So this is the point at which a decent internet connection comes in handy. Medscape and Uptodate are bae! Also, you’d rather ask the ‘dumb’ questions on day 1 than be forced to ask them in month 5!<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>9.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Remember to eat<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">You’ll thank me for this later. If you are especially busy you can forget to eat. And you only realize later when your energy levels are low and you’re cranky and miserable. I have personally learned that my body needs more sugar when I’m sleep-deprived. It keeps me functional. So eat even if you don’t necessarily feel like it because you might not know when your next meal will be. Especially on a call night. I’ve taken to carrying cereal bars in my back-pack just in case things get thick.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b>10.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; line-height: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Pray<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">For wisdom, for guidance, for strength. For calm call nights and just to say thank you. Just pray.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">If you’re reading this and you’re an intern or a former intern, feel free to add your own lessons in the comment section below. <o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br></div><br><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast">Ciao…<o:p></o:p></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/auK349QG7n0" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/auK349QG7n0/im-finally-doctor-now-what.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)2http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2017/07/im-finally-doctor-now-what.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-378043395938641491Tue, 13 Jun 2017 14:39:00 +00002017-06-14T07:41:11.906+03:00changedetailsfriendsNairobi lifeNitty grittyparadigm shiftPoliticsrelationshipsyouAre men really trash?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pA6TAJ0rZrQ/WT_4fhzAz6I/AAAAAAAAPOk/0GYeSmeK9kQiEUpEOPDsVvPlwjDtvk9FwCK4B/s1600/menaretrash-696x361.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pA6TAJ0rZrQ/WT_4fhzAz6I/AAAAAAAAPOk/0GYeSmeK9kQiEUpEOPDsVvPlwjDtvk9FwCK4B/s400/menaretrash-696x361.jpg" width="400"></a></div><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;I know that I'm opening a can of worms. No. Worms are too benign. Floodgates. I am opening the floodgates of a &nbsp;very volatile conversation. It's something I've been thinking about for a while even before I watched my friends argue about it on Facebook a few weeks ago. At the time I just felt that I didn't have the energy to dive into it. &nbsp;But I now feel that I have sufficiently collected my thoughts. Also, I've been busy. <br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; Sexism and rape culture is a reality that can no longer be ignored. My earliest memory of being cat-called was when I was 15 years old. &nbsp;I don't remember exactly where I was or who did it. &nbsp;All I remember is feeling unsafe and disgusted. And in the subsequent times that it happened over the years, &nbsp;I wondered if it was my fault. It happened whether I was wearing a dress or my oldest and baggiest jeans and an over-sized t shirt. &nbsp;It's a thing that I and other women have somehow developed an unspoken rule for living with. <br>Don't talk back. &nbsp;Walk away quickly. &nbsp;Don't make eye contact. Keep your gaze low. Pretend you didn't hear them. &nbsp;Don't call attention to yourself. &nbsp;Prepare yourself to run of if you have to. &nbsp;Use your keys to gouge out eyes in case of an attack. Aim for the groin. Scream loudly.<br>The list of <i>'defense mechanisms'</i> is endless.<br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;If you are a man and you're reading this you may find it bizarre. &nbsp;You've probably never had to think about such things. &nbsp;Never began to get a bit anxious when darkness finds you somewhere other than home and you have to use public transport back home. Never been so uneasy when you boarded a matatu and you were the only one of your sex, and your paranoia won-out in the end when made the decision to immediately alight and wait for a more gender-balanced one. &nbsp;You have probably never felt unsafe in spaces that should be safe like your workplace or your own home or your church. Probably never in your life..and certainly never on a daily basis.<br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;And who is to blame really? There are women who are part of the problem; perpetuate sexism just as much. But the fact remains that men are by far the biggest culprits in cases of violence against women. Especially men with a personal relationship with said women. We have to first of all accept and acknowledge that there is a problem before we can find a solution.<br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;This is the part of the conversation where the hashtag '<b><i>Not all men'</i></b> come into play. &nbsp;Some men are rapists, sexists and all round misogynists; but some of them aren't .That's an irrefutable fact. &nbsp;It's really hard to tell which side carries the majority and the sad thing is that sometimes you not know exactly which type of man you're dealing with until it's too late. <br>It gets more complicated. There's the question of men who don't perpetuate violent and discriminatory acts against women but are complicit to them. Did you even think to speak-out at all the last time your boy was relentlessly hitting-on (<i>read 'harassing'</i>) a woman who clearly wanted to be left alone? Did you awkwardly laugh the last time your male co-worker made a crude comment about one of the female staff? Have you ever said anything to your brother about the way he treats his gilrfriend/wife even though you know in your bones that no human being should be treated that way?<br>That my brother is complicity. Sure, you personally don't do those things. &nbsp;You have nothing against women. Good for you! You are being a decent human being. Have a gold star! &nbsp;But it's not enough to stop there and be a witness to injustices that you could have stopped! That's almost as bad. So looks like you don't get that gold star after-all.<br><br><br>&nbsp; But in all this I can't deny the fact that there are good men out there trying to make a difference and change things. &nbsp;Fighting alongside us for equal opportunities and the right to be treated like human beings. &nbsp;Which is why I have a problem with the hashtag <b><i>'men are trash'</i></b>. You may say that it's meant to raise awareness about the issues and start a conversation by being loud and shocking but I have a couple of issues with it.<br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;First of all there's the inaccuracy of it because it's a blanket statement &nbsp;lumping &nbsp;all men in the category of <b><i>'trash'&nbsp;</i></b>yet we all know damn well that there are several gems out there. You probably even have some of those gems in your life speaking out against the same issues that you are and working for change to happen. How do those conversations even go? 'So yeah, yesterday I tweeted men are trash but that doesn't include you'? (<i>awkward</i>)<br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;Then, I think there has to be a better way for us to stay woke. &nbsp;A more positive way to marshal the other 50% of the population into doing the right thing. Raising the status of women does not mean that you have to beat men down. &nbsp;If that was the case, then what really &nbsp;is the point of this equality you're fighting for? You can't have it both ways. <i><b>#MenAreTrash</b></i> is simply not fair.<br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;And I'm a Christian so thinking back to <b>Proverbs 18:21</b><br><b><i>The tongue has the power of life and death, and those who love it will eat its fruit</i></b><br>Before you tell me not to bring religion into this kindly remember that you're the same person asking where the church is in all this. I want a better world. I believe that we desperately need one. I'm doing my part and I'm choosing to <a href="http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/01/speak-life-and-surround-yourself-with.html" target="_blank">speak life</a>&nbsp;instead.<br><br>Ciao...</div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/8K-ngtGNmjs" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/8K-ngtGNmjs/are-men-really-trash.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)2http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2017/06/are-men-really-trash.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-6210505884934311264Thu, 23 Mar 2017 07:12:00 +00002017-03-23T10:17:43.116+03:00Book reviewsBook Review: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TeLJsGLFwEo/WNDxfVMQEXI/AAAAAAAAPHM/wRBzMIIbf4kE6hSmQj0EdzBb2ctKs8AWgCK4B/s1600/10210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TeLJsGLFwEo/WNDxfVMQEXI/AAAAAAAAPHM/wRBzMIIbf4kE6hSmQj0EdzBb2ctKs8AWgCK4B/s400/10210.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;I hope that as you read this you won't judge me too harshly for waiting until my mid-twenties to read this book. Truth be told, I also feel I should have read it earlier, but I was busy reading other things during my teens *cough* Harry potter *cough*. I also suffer from having a very large back-log of books I've been meaning to read. My wallet's current situation doesn't help either. Reading is an expensive hobby but we love it all the same.<br /><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;This book took a bit of patience at the start and I kept on getting distracted, but when the story picked-up boy did it go! The main protagonist is named 'Jane Eyre' (surprise!) and the book is about her life. Her growing-up in basically an abusive household, going on to boarding school and eventually finding work as a governess (read 'private tutor'). This is where she meets Mr. Rochester who I spent at least 5 chapters trying to figure out if I should root for or not. Was he tall dark and handsome? Yes, except for the handsome bit. So you don't have to worry about too many cliches there. Did they fall for each other? Of course! But just when I thought I knew where things were going, there was plot twist after plot twist. Seriously guys, I stopped trying to figure things out and just settled-in for the ride. <br /><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;At some point Jane ends-up being proposed to by a soon-to-be missionary who tries to bully her into marrying him by quoting scripture, specifically the book of Revelations. I may have lost the ability to roll my eyes ever again due to the amount of eye-rolling that went on at this point. But my beef with Christians who misuse scripture is a topic for another day. The only thing that got me through was me saying over and over 'please Lord let it not end like this!' (Take heart, it doesn't). And I'll leave things at that to avoid giving away too many spoilers.<br /><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;I liked the prose. There was incredible attention paid to detail when describing places and people to the extent that you can properly visualize them in your minds eye without having to fill-in the gaps by yourself. They just don't write them like that anymore. This book was written in the 1840s and I'm generally fascinated by old literature, more so anything Victorian. There's something about a book having survived nearly 200 years and still being relevant. <br /><br /><br /> So yes, I'd recommend this book to everyone.<br /><br />Ciao...<br /><br /><div><i>Photocredits: Goodreads.com</i></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/H9sr-ADLZNw" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/H9sr-ADLZNw/book-review-jane-eyre-by-charlotte.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2017/03/book-review-jane-eyre-by-charlotte.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-8385999945087756435Tue, 21 Mar 2017 09:00:00 +00002017-03-21T12:00:40.634+03:00detailsEpiphanyNairobi lifePoliticsyouYou don't even know what you don't even know<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FR0dePCTfgU/WNAYPo_YMKI/AAAAAAAAPG8/g-rEUP_Hc84GUPGizzCtVwqxZRNyZyI2QCK4B/s1600/35-Those-who-cannot-remember-the-past-are-condemned-to-repeat-it.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FR0dePCTfgU/WNAYPo_YMKI/AAAAAAAAPG8/g-rEUP_Hc84GUPGizzCtVwqxZRNyZyI2QCK4B/s400/35-Those-who-cannot-remember-the-past-are-condemned-to-repeat-it.png" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">&nbsp; &nbsp;I feel cheated by our education system. I have a problem with several aspects but I especially have a problem when it comes to the teaching of history. I feel like there are major parts that were skimmed over. Sure, they covered all the major bases about how Kenya was colonized and there were segregated schools for the different races. But it never talked about how Nairobi was basically partitioned into areas where the settlers lived, where the Asian community lived and where the Africans lived. We were taught about how colonialism was a good thing for us Africans and that they British might have overstepped their bounds a bit by mistreating Africans thus leading to the need for the Mau Mau rebellion. Maybe it was inappropriate to explain torture and human-rights violations to 12-year olds. But they glossed over the fact that thousands of Africans died due to outbreaks of diseases that had never been experienced in the continent before. That means that we had no immunity / tolerance for them so we died in scores. And even after independence, all the injustices committed by the government we worked so hard to install. Nobody mentioned the blatant corruption, <span lang="EN-GB">tribalism</span> and nepotism that laced those formative years. I was left with the distinct impression that the leaders of way back then were saints. I came to know better as an adult.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; And I think that our culture is to blame partly. We raise leaders to such a high pedestal that they literally become idols. And how can it be anything less that idolatry when a man in his right mind decides to kill his neighbor because his leaders told him to. We refuse to speak ill of the dead at the expense of the truth. Generations have been raised on a culture of expecting and accepting hand-outs. It started with us selling each other into slavery for cloth. These days we sell our votes and loyalty for sums that will barely last a week. When did we stop seeing the bigger picture? Or are we so used to being the underdog that we cannot imagine being ahead of the pack?<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; And I get it. That 1000bob at a political rally might be the difference between one’s children starving to death and them living to see another day. But what about later when there’s nobody standing with you in the voting booth? Tribalism and classism hasn’t helped us these past 50 plus years so how about we try something different and see what happens. But I digress.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; Back to our history that covers-up our less glorious moments and paints everything through rose-coloured glasses before jumping into world history for the rest of the school years. No wonder we keep making the same mistakes when we’re so quick to forget the lessons that we should have learned. The truth shall set us free.<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Ciao…<o:p></o:p></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/uVAxvib6KwA" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/uVAxvib6KwA/you-dont-even-know-what-you-dont-even.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2017/03/you-dont-even-know-what-you-dont-even.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-7419370255382064516Tue, 17 Jan 2017 09:40:00 +00002017-01-17T12:40:29.737+03:00detailsEpiphanymomentsNew beginningsNitty grittynostalgiaOptimismparadigm shiftrealisationrelationshipsself-confidenceyouWe need adultier adults<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wIsgobGBnFA/WH3ghykpE5I/AAAAAAAAO10/7HXyHa_qB4IEzU1ZsRgLYFq3Z8iI1qx7wCK4B/s1600/that-horrifying-moment-where-youre-looking-for-an-adult-but-then-realize-you-are-an-adult-so-you-look-for-an-older-adult-someone-successfully-adulting-an-adultier-adult-b7059.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wIsgobGBnFA/WH3ghykpE5I/AAAAAAAAO10/7HXyHa_qB4IEzU1ZsRgLYFq3Z8iI1qx7wCK4B/s400/that-horrifying-moment-where-youre-looking-for-an-adult-but-then-realize-you-are-an-adult-so-you-look-for-an-older-adult-someone-successfully-adulting-an-adultier-adult-b7059.png" width="400" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;This meme is a running joke between me and my friends. Or my friends and I. We occasionally post on social media about how we have successfully 'adulted' for the day. '<b><i>Adulting</i></b>' being the act of successfully doing something grown- up that you've never done before.Keyword being: successfully. And I know that there is a section of baby-boomers that's sick of this millennial habit of constantly documenting our supposed triumphs for the whole world to see, but I'm pretty sure they'd be doing the same thing if they'd this technology at their disposal in their hey-day. Heck! who I am I kidding?! They did do the same thing.. through phone calls, letters and postcards.&nbsp;</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><br /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; But back to the meme. Being an adult is hard work.. the first time around anyway. I had an experience last year when I accompanied 3 teenage girls to the hospital. Reason being we were at camp and I was a counsellor and they had some injuries that needed to be looked at by a doctor. Nothing too serious (<i>Although I feel like being a medic, my definition of serious is very different from the average Joe's</i>). They were just things that could not be properly managed by the contents of a first aid kit. So there I was,&nbsp; getting them checked-in , finding-out what needs to be paid for and how much it cost,&nbsp; trying not to look so frustrated because I'd never really been on the service-receiving side of the hospital , keeping their folks updated and taking time to cheer them (<i>the girls</i>) up and make sure they were emotionally okay and what-not. I was basically their mom for the day!&nbsp;</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">I remember looking- up at some point and asking God to help me keep it together. And He did help me do just that. Until it was over and I could finally crash down for a nap after having depleted all my extrovert energy supplies for the day.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Never before had I been the designated&nbsp; responsible adult in such a situation. There had&nbsp;</span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="background-color: white;">always been a more accomplished adult to take the reins and get things done while I stood-by ready to help out if necessary. But this time I had to go it alone.&nbsp;</span></span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><br /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;But this is not the only time I've suddenly found myself making big decisions and taking even bigger steps all by myself. It's not as if I didn't know what to do. It was just a bit jarring to be the one totally in charge for the first time. And also kind of liberating. Because now if I'm ever in a similar situation again I'll have that cool facade that adults always seemed to have when I was growing up. Something akin to years of experience with a dash of wisdom. I count myself lucky though because I am surrounded by adultier adults (<i>forgive me grammar Nazis</i>) who've taken the time in various capacities to either show me or tell me how things are done.&nbsp; Or even pat my shoulder and say 'there there! ' when things don't go quite the way I planned.&nbsp;Sometime they've laughed at me before remembering they were supposed to be sympathetic and supportive, but it's the thought that counts.</span><br /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;Not everyone my age or younger has been that fortunate. Mostly we flounder-along trying our best and ignoring the sting when our best isn't good enough. And then we take it too far when the weekend rolls round and we're trying to 'blow off steam'. &nbsp;What we really need is for someone to tell us that it's OK for some things to be awkward. That sometimes the best laid plans fail. &nbsp;And that our teenage goals for when we turned 25 might not necessarily be a reality but we're not the only ones (<i>On that note can we all take a moment to giggle collectively as we remember those goals we had set for when we were to turn 25!</i>).</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">But most importantly we need someone to tell us when we're about to make monumentally stupid decisions without sounding condescending in the process. We need people who are already successful adults to tell us that they messed up too and then explain how they got out of those messes.</span><br /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;On the flip side we need to realise that for those who are just barely coming of age,&nbsp; we are the adultier adults. The sort of revered older brother/ sister who's just old enough to have more money and responsibilities but still young enough to be cool and understanding of their struggles . And they are watching us whether we want them to or not..whether we know it or not. So it's our responsibility to set a good example.&nbsp;</span><br /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">They in turn are setting an example for those kids who are 11/12 years old now and are grappling with the reality of acne and other awkward body stories.</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><br /><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;That is how you change a generation. Not by lamenting about them on social media or looking at them suspiciously but by taking them by the hand and walking with them.&nbsp; So will the adultier adults please stand- up!&nbsp;</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;" /><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Ciao...</span></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/-IUyfAmHLRk" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/-IUyfAmHLRk/we-need-adultier-adults.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2017/01/we-need-adultier-adults.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-5775037115494426640Thu, 12 Jan 2017 08:00:00 +00002017-01-12T11:01:47.316+03:00changedetailsfutureHealthmomentsNairobi lifeNitty grittyovercoming fearparadigm shiftPoliticsyouThose things are not for us<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ibDQlL2ebVo/WHc3KKT4BQI/AAAAAAAAOzw/C0W7ZuGk82w-2UEZIhBlg7HIeJQ-2oVSwCK4B/s1600/7a946c4e578697794807eac1d6eb13aa.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ibDQlL2ebVo/WHc3KKT4BQI/AAAAAAAAOzw/C0W7ZuGk82w-2UEZIhBlg7HIeJQ-2oVSwCK4B/s400/7a946c4e578697794807eac1d6eb13aa.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;This is a statement that many 90s kids growing up in this country might be familiar with. That and it's various variants: 'Hiyo iko na wenyewe' , 'not for the likes of us' and most recently, 'Stick to your lane'. When you've lived in mediocrity all your life it changes you. It seeps through your pores and permeates your soul. It becomes the glass ceiling that you place over yourself and your children. The thing that keeps you shackled in the dark when you had the keys all along. Maybe it's a result of colonialism. Decades of Africans being told what they can't do so much that they started to believe it. And even after they were freed, they never really experienced freedom.<br /><br />&nbsp; <br />&nbsp; &nbsp;You might wonder what these things that we've decided we don't deserve are. Back then it might have been certain restaurants frequented by foreigners, the idea of a family holiday to Mombasa or even the concept of demanding more from our leaders. I was taught that the leaders after independence were stand-up folks who did everything they could to ensure the well-being of the country as a whole. They were basically saints all dressed in white. It wasn't till I got older that I started to hear stories and I realised that things weren't totally black and white. There were a lot of shades of grey in between. Stories of people who desperately hoarded wealth for decades at the expense of our country's development. Tribal power-plays that are quite honestly appalling.<br /><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;And I get that I was born in an era when people just didn't have the privilege of demanding more from the government. But apparently that 24-year stint has really played a number on the current middle-classes heads. People who either raised children during those years when you took what was given to you without an ounce of complaint, or else folks who were growing up then and were old enough to understand the status quo.<br /><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;And speaking of the status quo, you do realise it can be changed right? That beyond your myopic view of reality there lies a whole horizon of possibilities! But unfortunately you have decided that:<br /><br /><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><b><i>Corruption is OK.</i></b> And you leave the fight against to a few brave souls while making comments like 'this is Kenya'. Statements like that irk me to no end.</li></ul><br /><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><b><i>You have decided to elect the same leaders over and over again</i></b> because so and so has popularity on their side and is most likely to win. So you really don't want to waste it. You might as well give in and go with the rest of the herd of sheep because you're just not comfortable sticking-out and going against the tide. Or maybe you want to make sure that one of 'our people' is in power. How's that worked for you so far if you're still complaining about the same old things?</li></ul><br /><br /><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><b><i>You have accepted that our health system is broken and doesn't work.</i></b>&nbsp;It's been that way since before you can remember. It doesn't really bother you however because you've made it enough to afford private hospitals should you be feeling under the weather. Then you go on Twitter and make statements about doctors being selfish for striking mostly because this strike is a giant pain in your neck. Chances are you're not even properly conversant with the issues on the table.</li></ul><br /><br /><ul style="text-align: left;"><li><b><i>You somehow got it into your head that tribalism is the new black.</i></b>&nbsp;So you go around hate-mongering and making snide comments about other communities. No that does not make you cool. It just makes the rest of wonder if you were dropped on your head as a child.</li></ul><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp; I could go on and on about so many more issues. Stuff that I should have written about last year. And yes I was busy with school, but also I was just tired. Tired of scandal after scandal on the news. A virtual competition to prove who can shock the nation more. The corruption Olympics. Just when I thought 'they' couldn't stoop any lower, our dear leaders performed another hat trick. But it's not enough to be tired. Honestly most of us plus our parents have been tired all our lives. There comes a time when we need to step out of our numbing hazes and remember that it is possible to have more. We deserve those things we've been told are impossible. We're the only ones holding ourselves back.<br />So <a href="https://twitter.com/search?q=%23LipaKamaTender&amp;src=tyah" target="_blank">#LipaKamaTender</a><br /><br />Ciao...</div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/rPd3lCBvS5c" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/rPd3lCBvS5c/those-things-are-not-for-us.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2017/01/those-things-are-not-for-us.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-7276712659556479222Sat, 31 Dec 2016 05:35:00 +00002016-12-31T08:46:42.508+03:00Book reviewslistsmomentsNitty grittynostalgiaMy 2016 reading challenge<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">&nbsp; &nbsp;Earlier this year I posted this picture on Instagram:<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wi3joJzRbF4/WGax9uTbDlI/AAAAAAAAOlo/xRHBKnEb_CoEqj2IOYKyTUFbgwvsnfq-wCK4B/s1600/MMD-2016-Reading-Challenge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wi3joJzRbF4/WGax9uTbDlI/AAAAAAAAOlo/xRHBKnEb_CoEqj2IOYKyTUFbgwvsnfq-wCK4B/s400/MMD-2016-Reading-Challenge.jpg" width="308" /></a></div><br /><br />Because I'm a total bookworm and I'd seen lots of other folks doing reading challenges and I thought that this might be somewhat manageable (<i>meaning the list wasn't super long</i>). It would push me to actually seek out books more intentionally than before. Also, I'm a sucker for dares and challenges. Side-effects of being a very competitive person I suppose.<br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;I kept track of my progress using my instagram and goodreads accounts. I will now attempt to take stock and see how I did.<br /><br /><br /><b><u>1. A book published this year</u></b><br /><b><i>Harry Potter and the cursed child - John Tiffany</i></b><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3lty86d6TPM/WGaz-j2Ho-I/AAAAAAAAOl0/RV6GmMUxjfsT61oXRLB-Gk8ua2AOTi-FQCK4B/s1600/Harry_Potter_and_the_Cursed_Child_Special_Rehearsal_Edition_Book_Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3lty86d6TPM/WGaz-j2Ho-I/AAAAAAAAOl0/RV6GmMUxjfsT61oXRLB-Gk8ua2AOTi-FQCK4B/s400/Harry_Potter_and_the_Cursed_Child_Special_Rehearsal_Edition_Book_Cover.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br /><br />A lot of people I know had mixed feelings about this book after all the hype. Personally I'd been waiting for a new Harry Potter book since I finished Deathly Hallows at the age of 17. I loved it, even the script-format. All I can say is: Broaden your horizons and literary palates people!<br /><br /><br /><b><u>2. A book you can finish in one day</u></b><br /><b><i>Shadows on the moon - Zoe Marriot</i></b><br /><b><br /></b><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zxryuh2a_W8/WGa0_GK_BbI/AAAAAAAAOmA/dwZlH5Zx2MIGxVe_AsAD4rkputccjZXCQCK4B/s1600/9741685.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Zxryuh2a_W8/WGa0_GK_BbI/AAAAAAAAOmA/dwZlH5Zx2MIGxVe_AsAD4rkputccjZXCQCK4B/s400/9741685.jpg" width="258" /></a></div><br />&nbsp; I found this book quite by accident when I wandered into a book-store with the intention of 'just-browsing-and-not-really-buying-anything' (<i>Lies I tell myself</i>). The book-store had a sale and I fell in love with this cover and the blurb at the back. So I decided to take a chance on this author I'd never heard about and hope I wouldn't regret the money spent afterwards. My gamble paid off! Think 'Memoirs of a geisha' meets dystopian feudal Japan &nbsp;featuring African characters who wield prominent positions instead of being mere slaves. Yeah I know...it's out of the box. But boxes tend to get musty and mouldy and oh so common!<br /><br /><br /><b><u>3. A book you've been meaning to read / A book recommended by your local librarian or bookseller</u></b><br /><b><i>The color purple - Alice Walker</i></b><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kGDBim7ut5s/WGa36gXrixI/AAAAAAAAOmM/_e6RfgioH2EMp6MwXAztF1qBjO_Mh_r7QCK4B/s1600/22838748.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kGDBim7ut5s/WGa36gXrixI/AAAAAAAAOmM/_e6RfgioH2EMp6MwXAztF1qBjO_Mh_r7QCK4B/s400/22838748.jpg" width="255" /></a></div><br /><br />Kindly allow me to cheat and include the same book in two categories. It just so happens that I've always been meaning to read the color purple, and the bookseller recommended it to me as I was once again ' just-browsing-and-not-really-buying-anything'.<br /><br /><br /><b><u>4. A book you should have read in school</u></b><br />I've got nada. I sort of did more than my share of reading in school :-). But maybe I'll make a point to explore Shakespeare in 2017.<br /><br /><br /><b><u>5. A book chosen for you by your spouse, partner, sibling, child or BFF (or friend?)</u></b><br /><b><i>Eat, pray, Love - Elizabeth Gilbert</i></b><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tjXhSW-lT6w/WGa6LubiNOI/AAAAAAAAOmY/t33No7bZZKMTnD5gZqUdc2aQZDr9RkiGACK4B/s1600/19501.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tjXhSW-lT6w/WGa6LubiNOI/AAAAAAAAOmY/t33No7bZZKMTnD5gZqUdc2aQZDr9RkiGACK4B/s400/19501.jpg" width="260" /></a></div><br /><br />&nbsp;It was a graduation gift from a friend of mine. It's also a book I'd been meaning to read at some point. Interesting take on a lot of things. And now that reminds me that I need to watch the movie. Oh well!<br /><br /><br /><b><u>6. A book published before you were born</u></b><br /><b><i>The chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis</i></b><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QvUJbIPHa5Y/WGa-r69YMlI/AAAAAAAAOm0/Vt6ueSOSGggUMezii6xClGqh1nHQSHQjQCK4B/s1600/1143953.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QvUJbIPHa5Y/WGa-r69YMlI/AAAAAAAAOm0/Vt6ueSOSGggUMezii6xClGqh1nHQSHQjQCK4B/s400/1143953.jpg" width="265" /></a></div><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;These books were first published in the 1950s...Yup totally fits the bill. This particular edition is actually the first book I ever bought myself. I keep coming back to these books because let's face it, CS Lewis is a great story-teller. These are the kind of books that are timeless. I still understand the references made despite a 50-year gap between publication and my reading them. I can imagine reading these books to my kids.<br /><br /><br /><b><u>7. A book that was banned at some point</u></b><br /><b><i>La prissoniere - Malika Oufkir</i></b><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WTFH61KIh_M/WGa-rkgcf2I/AAAAAAAAOms/HYNG6IOvJIYwd5zM4NN3BHXDnpLRJUosACK4B/s1600/Screenshot_2016-01-09-20-58-00-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WTFH61KIh_M/WGa-rkgcf2I/AAAAAAAAOms/HYNG6IOvJIYwd5zM4NN3BHXDnpLRJUosACK4B/s400/Screenshot_2016-01-09-20-58-00-1.png" width="281" /></a></div><br /><br />This book was banned in Morocco at some point because it revealed some undesirable things about the then monarch and other prominent people. It was to them what George Orwell's 'Animal Farm' once was to Kenya (<i>Which reminds me to add it to my to-read list</i>).<br /><br /><br /><b><u>8. A book you previously abandoned</u></b><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;I don't have a book that I read after previously abandoning...but I do have a book that I abandoned this year. Officially adding it to the 2017 priority list. The lucky winner is none other than:<br /><br /><b><i>Mere Christianity - CS Lewis</i></b><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bkx5H2UUMQA/WGa90BU_poI/AAAAAAAAOmk/3tkyeVsq-hwYb4ZbT5bBRIqSrA92ZHv_gCK4B/s1600/11138.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bkx5H2UUMQA/WGa90BU_poI/AAAAAAAAOmk/3tkyeVsq-hwYb4ZbT5bBRIqSrA92ZHv_gCK4B/s400/11138.jpg" width="261" /></a></div>Why did I abandon it? I was busy with school. And it's the kind of book that takes a bit of effort to read, unlike the sweep-you-off-your-feet-and-get-you-obsessed stories I usually read. But it's got a good thing going on, which is why I'll come back to it.<br /><br /><br /><b><u>9. A book that you own but have never read</u></b><br />That is not how I roll. I've read everything I own...and then some.<br /><br /><br /><b><u>10. A book that intimidates you</u></b><br />That would have to be lucky winner no.8. So obviously I can't put it up here properly because I abandoned it. This is my cue to put on my big-girl pants and carpe diem!<br /><br /><br /><b><u>11. A book you've already read at least once</u></b><br /><b><i>Prey - Michael Crichton</i></b><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-drqq65Jbw2c/WGbBRcYKu9I/AAAAAAAAOnA/VwJ2gELS-xsOaQoLc63D-zweTJ3jyBY4ACK4B/s1600/83763.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-drqq65Jbw2c/WGbBRcYKu9I/AAAAAAAAOnA/VwJ2gELS-xsOaQoLc63D-zweTJ3jyBY4ACK4B/s400/83763.jpg" width="245" /></a></div><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;Enter another great love of my life: Science fiction! This guy will forever be one of my favourite authors because he's unpredictable. His books are filled with awkward moments when you think you know what's going on but realise you know nothing actually. So you stop second-guessing and supposing and just settle-in for the ride. And I love that! Being a wide reader I love it when things can still surprise me. Believe me, life gets boring when you can guess the entire book plot after the first 10 or 20 pages!<br /><br />Well, that was my year in books, how was yours? I'm going to look for a new reading challenge for 2017. I'm determined to top this.<br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4Ep6p4UTblg/WGdD_KueKDI/AAAAAAAAOnc/RXcrPCekrrstZSymctsnuZ-6SYw170Y0ACK4B/s1600/20161231_083253.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4Ep6p4UTblg/WGdD_KueKDI/AAAAAAAAOnc/RXcrPCekrrstZSymctsnuZ-6SYw170Y0ACK4B/s400/20161231_083253.png" width="310" /></a></div><br /><br />Ciao...and Happy New year folks!:))<br /><br /><i>photocredits: www.goodreads.com</i></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/RnMnThWUukw" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/RnMnThWUukw/my-2016-reading-challenge.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-2016-reading-challenge.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-2764120765774191241Mon, 24 Oct 2016 07:18:00 +00002016-10-24T10:18:55.765+03:00detailsNitty grittynostalgiarelationshipsyouWhat it's like to be an introvert<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sDh3Q5ifbd8/WAUCU7MwcqI/AAAAAAAANWs/W0Vz6cwApPwiiCp9sF7FuCMik09UCF--QCK4B/s1600/tumblr_oaeod1haf01vtfktmo1_540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sDh3Q5ifbd8/WAUCU7MwcqI/AAAAAAAANWs/W0Vz6cwApPwiiCp9sF7FuCMik09UCF--QCK4B/s400/tumblr_oaeod1haf01vtfktmo1_540.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Some folks complain about 'adulting'. Introverts complain about 'people-ing'</b></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">&nbsp; &nbsp;When I was in High school we had an annual parents’ open day for the form two students. Basically all your teachers sat at different tables and you and your folks went round from table to table so that they (<i>your folks</i>) could meet the teachers and discuss how you’re doing and what-not. I was struggling a bit with some of my grades and it didn’t help for me to have the teachers for the two subjects I was struggling the most in: Math and chemistry – tell my parents that I barely participated in class. I was deeply offended. In my view I was doing very well at class participation. I was practically slaying class participation. Those teachers had it wrong and my parents were equally as wrong for not believing me. That’s what it’s like to be an introvert.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C7YjLqMvI_A/WAUCty5TqVI/AAAAAAAANW0/lLtEP4hKL7EwejN1mQ3xI86tCKQPeYLwwCK4B/s1600/tumblr_oe6iziGnEh1vtfktmo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-C7YjLqMvI_A/WAUCty5TqVI/AAAAAAAANW0/lLtEP4hKL7EwejN1mQ3xI86tCKQPeYLwwCK4B/s400/tumblr_oe6iziGnEh1vtfktmo1_500.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; Of course the only people who can appreciate that deep struggle are fellow introverts and ambiverts (<i>Ambiverts are people who have both extroverted and introverted traits</i>). Extroverts don’t see when you’re putting in 100% effort to be out there. Because their 100% is not the same as yours. In fact your 100% is probably like 50% in their view. Maybe even 25% as illustrated in my high school story. And it can be so easy for an introvert to be written off as snobbish when they are judged by somebody who’s lived their whole life being the life of the party. Normal is a relative term. Newsflash: There are people who dread having to be in new social situations because to them the process of approaching a stranger and striking a conversation is painfully awkward. There are people who have opinions but don’t always (want to) voice them. There are people who are perfectly ok with being alone instead of going for whatever social gathering is scheduled for this weekend. In fact, they would gladly choose to be alone 90% of the year but unfortunately they haven’t yet invented houses that are self-sustaining and so they are forced to occasionally step out of the house and interact with other humans for one reason or another.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; My high school incident was compounded by the fact that I’d never had such complaints raised against me. When I was in primary school the world was basically my oyster. I was one of the ‘smart kids’. The one who excelled at pretty much everything. But do you know what happens when you take all the smart kids and put them in one institution for their secondary school education. They realize that smartness is a relative term. That there are others who are smarter than them despite their inherent smartness according to the rest of the world. They begin to flounder as they struggle to find balance in this new reality where they are not necessarily the best and have to work so much harder to come close to that. And for an introvert like I was, that meant that I became more closed-off in a sense. You know, I was processing and trying to get my life together. Also I think the mere shock of always being around hundreds of other people at any given time was a factor. I was suddenly a new kid in a sea of new kids from all walks of life and everyday there was a new situation to experience. I was in boarding school for the very first time in my life and it took some getting-used to.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; And I did get used to it. Somewhere along the way I discovered that I can actually be a bit extroverted at times. So I oscillate between wanting to have a weekend-full of plans and wanting to do nothing at all and see nobody at all. Wanting to have been invited to stuff but have the option of politely declining. Wanting to throw away my phone and being bummed when not much is happening on it. Being ok with doing things on my own instead of waiting for others, and on the flip-side wanting to experience life <i>with</i>people.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6aa9B-cZI1s/WAUDn_kYEdI/AAAAAAAANW8/BngCgPaRyr02xA2A0X9Tmo0zwESPxmVNQCK4B/s1600/tumblr_oe5s1zMZEh1vtfktmo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6aa9B-cZI1s/WAUDn_kYEdI/AAAAAAAANW8/BngCgPaRyr02xA2A0X9Tmo0zwESPxmVNQCK4B/s400/tumblr_oe5s1zMZEh1vtfktmo1_500.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Sometimes...</b></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp; So for all you well-meaning non-members of this club, please try to understand. It’s nothing personal. Because sometimes we are tired of interactions and want to get through them as quickly as possible. Small-talk can be daunting because we don’t always understand the formula of exactly what topics to cover and in what order. Sometimes we rehearse conversations…in our heads of course! Sometimes we need to recharge our batteries and for that to happen we need the quiet of our own heads. We're quiet because of the millions of thoughts running through our minds. So take a chill pill. We’ll catch-up with you later.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Ciao…<br /><br />Photocredits:&nbsp;http://introvertunites.tumblr.com/</div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/lZo6ddJNiPc" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/lZo6ddJNiPc/what-its-like-to-be-introvert.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/10/what-its-like-to-be-introvert.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-8506170431806491309Tue, 18 Oct 2016 05:59:00 +00002016-10-18T08:59:24.484+03:00changedetailsfutureNairobi lifeNitty grittyparadigm shiftWhat a doctor looks like<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DUARZsqCbyA/WATjOnnGzOI/AAAAAAAANWY/5lA8nkFpIEEH_ULNw_ToSVb0fPPWxYzjQCLcB/s1600/What%2Ba%2Bdoctor%2Blooks%2Blike.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DUARZsqCbyA/WATjOnnGzOI/AAAAAAAANWY/5lA8nkFpIEEH_ULNw_ToSVb0fPPWxYzjQCLcB/s1600/What%2Ba%2Bdoctor%2Blooks%2Blike.png" /></a></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;The hashtag <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/whatadoctorlookslike/" target="_blank">#WhatADoctorLooksLike</a> is sweeping the internet and with good reason.&nbsp; In case you're not familiar with the story, I'll catch-you-up. Last week a man on a Delta airlines flight collapsed. So the flight attendant did what we've all watched in movies but few have seen in real life.&nbsp; She asked if there was a doctor on board. A young African-American OBGYN (<i>The kind of doctor that attends to women during pregnancy, pregnancy related issues and all other female-specific health issues</i>) raised her hand because duh! She's a doctor. And even th The flight attendant saw her but automatically assumed she wanted to ask about something else, so she dismissed her and asked again for a doctor. She managed to get the attendant's attention again and this time informed her that she is a doctor.&nbsp; So the unnecessary time-wasting and possible patient-killing Q &amp; A ensued. Apparently the flight attendant was having a hard time believing that our young African-American woman is a doctor. She asked :<br />- What kind of doctor she is<br />-Where she practices<br />- Why she's on the flight in the first place<br />- If she had any documentation to prove that she is a doctor</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Meanwhile, the man who'd collapsed still wasn't receiving any medical attention and those of us reading this story are having a hard time not pulling out our hairs because we know how crucial those few minutes after a person collapses can be.&nbsp;</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Before the flight attendant can continue her interrogation, an older Caucasian gentleman approaches her and also says that he's a doctor.&nbsp; She immediately ushers him to the guy who'd collapsed without asking a single question. You can read the full story <a href="http://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/black-female-doctor-delta-discriminated-barred-me-sick-passenger-n666251" target="_blank">here</a>.</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;You might wonder why I'm sitting halfway around the world upset by this story. You might wonder how this is relevant to a Kenyan society where nearly all doctors are well,&nbsp; black and so race isn't necessarily the issue for us.&nbsp; Well let me tell you why.</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;I'm upset because in sometimes doctors in Kenya are discriminated-against because of how they look. Patients who don't trust you because you look too young as opposed to the graying professor who's practiced medicine for 40 years and resembles their childhood memory of what a doctor should look like.&nbsp; Never-mind the fact that there aren't enough graying professors&nbsp; to treat everyone in the country. The young doctors are actually taught by the older professors and are taught pretty darn well. Never-mind that the reason the young docs are young is that this isn't the 60s where one went too school much later in life and occasionally had interruptions for years at a time in their education!</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;Doctors in Kenya are discriminated against when female doctors meet male patients who either refuse to be treated by them,&nbsp; or are hostile towards them. Or even female medical students. I have seen patients who go mum when clerked by a female but suddenly become very vocal when attended-to by a male colleague.Remind me again who loses out when you're sick and decide to be picky about your doctor's gender.</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Or when patients assume that any female working in a hospital is automatically a nurse despite the fact that she's wearing a white coat. We all know that in this country doctors wear white coats while nursing staff wear distinct uniforms but apparently this logic isn't obvious to some. Never-mind that the same people have no qualms with identifying male healthcare workers wearing white coats as doctors... even when they aren't.&nbsp; Don't get me wrong, I have no problem with nurses. They do incredible and amazing work and are valuable assets to healthcare as a whole. I have a problem with people repeatedly deciding what career options do and do not suit me because of my gender. The fact that it surprises when you meet a woman and she says she's a doctor tells you that there's something wrong with our mindsets. And you tend to raise your eyebrows and almost jump back in your surprise because the thought really hadn't crossed your mind.</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;Last but not least, doctors in Kenya are discriminated-against because of their ethnicity. From counties that refuse to employ doctors from certain ethnic communities to people who 'prefer' doctors of certain ethnicities. As if ethnicity is directly proportional to medical expertise. And we could talk and talk about how this is one of the ways we are unknowingly tribalistic.. But that could take days.</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">We need to stop constructing glass ceilings over people's heads without consulting them. This is the same mentality with which we raise our children and decide for them that somethings are not for them. Telling them to stick to their lane. How do you know which lane is for you if you aren't the one driving? The truth is that anybody could be a doctor, engineer, artist, writer, chef or scientist. It's not up to you to decide!</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Ciao...</div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/PcWM6bYjUoI" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/PcWM6bYjUoI/what-doctor-looks-like.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/10/what-doctor-looks-like.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-8709354662211921581Fri, 02 Sep 2016 13:18:00 +00002016-09-02T16:18:07.375+03:00FoodHealthIndiaRecipesFoodie Fridays: Homemade Butter Naan<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KLbMgRNrc4k/V8l61QmtqxI/AAAAAAAAMa4/0C-kHZ4cqWgfGOKhnE68d4PMMDhdxPgEgCEw/s1600/20160818_185854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="333" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KLbMgRNrc4k/V8l61QmtqxI/AAAAAAAAMa4/0C-kHZ4cqWgfGOKhnE68d4PMMDhdxPgEgCEw/s400/20160818_185854.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">&nbsp; &nbsp;I am obsessed with Indian food. My family knows it and I know it. I’m currently looking for a support group. One which hopefully bankrolls trips to local Indian restaurants.&nbsp; :-D&nbsp; So you can only imagine the glee I felt when I stumbled across this gem of a recipe on <a href="http://www.saveur.com/article/recipes/naan-indian-leavened-flatbread" target="_blank">Pinterest</a>. It’s quite simple especially if your chapatti making skills are on point! And even if they’re not on point, it’s still easy enough. &nbsp;I modified the recipe a bit and improvised here and there but it still turned out great! &nbsp;So without further ado:</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Ingredients<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">3⁄4 cup warm water </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1 tsp. honey</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1 teaspoon active dry yeast</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">2 cups all-purpose flour</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1⁄2 cup plain yogurt</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">2 tablespoon cooking oil</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1⁄2 teaspoon salt</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">½ a cup of melted butter (<i>or cooking oil</i>)</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">½ cup chopped cilantro (<i>Dhania</i>)</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Instructions<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Stir the water and honey in a bowl; add yeast and let sit until foamy, about 10 minutes. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Add the flour, yogurt, oil, and salt and mix thoroughly. Using your hands, knead the dough in the bowl until smooth. Cover the dough with a damp cloth and let it sit in a warm place until doubled in size (approximately 1 hour).</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7oWlC4nQkVM/V8l605k-XKI/AAAAAAAAMak/iH8jGYLlcvwl6_pAs4pRjEBJbOZuBOIGwCEw/s1600/20160818_181830.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7oWlC4nQkVM/V8l605k-XKI/AAAAAAAAMak/iH8jGYLlcvwl6_pAs4pRjEBJbOZuBOIGwCEw/s400/20160818_181830.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All ready for cooking</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Transfer the dough to a floured work surface and divide into 10 balls. Working with 1 ball at a time and using a rolling pin, roll each ball into a circle about ½ a cm thick. Sprinkle some cilantro on top and press it into the dough.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GVg6VcAFjho/V8l60ysOvdI/AAAAAAAAMao/NpKERWg-H4Mqme_1zjYJi5yRVPqxKuIeQCEw/s1600/20160818_182513%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GVg6VcAFjho/V8l60ysOvdI/AAAAAAAAMao/NpKERWg-H4Mqme_1zjYJi5yRVPqxKuIeQCEw/s400/20160818_182513%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Divided into balls</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">4.</span><span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; text-indent: -0.25in;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">Heat a pan over medium-high. Use either the chapatti pan (</span><i style="text-indent: -0.25in;">I don’t know its actual name</i><span style="text-indent: -0.25in;">) or a frying pan.</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->&nbsp;Spread ½ tablespoon of butter on the pan. Place a piece of dough on the pan and apply butter to the top side as the bottom cooks. Cook the bottom until bubbles appear over the surface and then flip it to cook the other side until browned in spots.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bhShaVQ7Yb4/V8l61Y_kahI/AAAAAAAAMa0/VsXyOZCphNM1KtI6KLv_3B0JDDLUBjJ0ACEw/s1600/20160818_185409.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="258" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bhShaVQ7Yb4/V8l61Y_kahI/AAAAAAAAMa0/VsXyOZCphNM1KtI6KLv_3B0JDDLUBjJ0ACEw/s400/20160818_185409.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Step 1</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kWYEJkwmoRg/V8l61FgNMBI/AAAAAAAAMaw/RP5v5sCFw1wgt3i6AbTfuPxm3JoRq2SuACEw/s1600/20160818_182952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kWYEJkwmoRg/V8l61FgNMBI/AAAAAAAAMaw/RP5v5sCFw1wgt3i6AbTfuPxm3JoRq2SuACEw/s400/20160818_182952.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Step 2</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->6.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Transfer naan to a plate and brush with butter. Serve hot.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KLbMgRNrc4k/V8l61QmtqxI/AAAAAAAAMa4/0C-kHZ4cqWgfGOKhnE68d4PMMDhdxPgEgCEw/s1600/20160818_185854.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="333" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KLbMgRNrc4k/V8l61QmtqxI/AAAAAAAAMa4/0C-kHZ4cqWgfGOKhnE68d4PMMDhdxPgEgCEw/s400/20160818_185854.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Final result</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KM61RLV-t2Y/V8l61umgKdI/AAAAAAAAMa8/ZHQ0tAYtMpYg7CPxCtnrhteokPlwisSGwCEw/s1600/20160818_191008%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KM61RLV-t2Y/V8l61umgKdI/AAAAAAAAMa8/ZHQ0tAYtMpYg7CPxCtnrhteokPlwisSGwCEw/s400/20160818_191008%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Had mine with bean stew</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Bon appétit!</div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/9gZQQC_s4ko" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/9gZQQC_s4ko/foodie-fridays-homemade-butter-naan.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/09/foodie-fridays-homemade-butter-naan.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-5533545176688079041Fri, 19 Aug 2016 09:15:00 +00002016-08-19T12:15:03.881+03:00FoodHealthRecipesFoodie Fridays: Pineapple and beef stew<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oRyfWaxg1rU/V7bI5kvbrjI/AAAAAAAAMIc/7pstbImN2SAuS2T0ukJFXzAcIDo54MA4QCEw/s1600/20160806_215850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oRyfWaxg1rU/V7bI5kvbrjI/AAAAAAAAMIc/7pstbImN2SAuS2T0ukJFXzAcIDo54MA4QCEw/s400/20160806_215850.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;It’s been a while. Months actually since I last wrote anything. School got so crazy that I could barely muster the strength to write anything worth-while. And I don’t do things half-way. Go big or go home right? But I have a bit of a reprieve at the moment and this is me trying to get back on the writing saddle. What better way to do it than with a recipe that will absolutely blow your taste-buds!</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; I mentioned a while back how much I love fruit-juice marinades. They have this unique flavor and have a way of making food sweet without being as overwhelming as sugar can be at times. Plus, they are healthy! </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; Short biology lesson: Pineapple juice contains an enzyme called bromelain which actually breaks down tough proteins, such as the ones found in the harder cuts of meat therefore softening the meat. It’s a natural meat tenderizer! No more boiling for hours on end or using a pressure cooker to make meat chewable. Just marinate it in pineapple juice for 2-3 hours and your good to go! Don’t leave it in for too long though or you might end-up with meat that’s mushy. And you could use the same concept to cook other kinds of meat.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">So here’s the recipe:</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Ingredients<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">½ kg beef cubed</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1 cup cubed pineapple chunks from a ripe pineapple</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">½ cup soy sauce</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1 teaspoon red chili powder</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">2 tablespoons of cooking oil</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">4 cloves of garlic finely chopped</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">2 large onions chopped</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">3 large tomatoes chopped</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"><b>Instructions<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Mix the pineapple, soy sauce, chili, cooking oil and garlic to make your marinade. Do not add any salt because the soy sauce has more than enough and you might end up with a salty mess!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->In a large bowl, mix the beef with the marinade thoroughly. Cover and leave in the fridge for 2-3 hours. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Uc1pxSj0ddw/V7bIjJ-WM0I/AAAAAAAAMIA/42Etxfv1aYoq_u9MyaxxjB-EU8mLeYcsACEw/s1600/20160806_185215.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Uc1pxSj0ddw/V7bIjJ-WM0I/AAAAAAAAMIA/42Etxfv1aYoq_u9MyaxxjB-EU8mLeYcsACEw/s400/20160806_185215.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mix it like this and then wait</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Pour the beef and pineapple mixture into a large pan and fry over medium heat for about 10 minutes or until cooked (<i>slightly brown</i>). Stir frequently to make sure all sides cook well.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6f7jrcfFIvY/V7bIrUNohCI/AAAAAAAAMII/VMwiiqDak_EfwCuizJBPYV1vg6mCPbzEwCEw/s1600/20160806_212956.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6f7jrcfFIvY/V7bIrUNohCI/AAAAAAAAMII/VMwiiqDak_EfwCuizJBPYV1vg6mCPbzEwCEw/s400/20160806_212956.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Add the onions and cook until soft.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Add the tomatoes and cook for a further 2-3 minutes. If the stew gets too dry add a little water at this point. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">And voila!</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oRyfWaxg1rU/V7bI5kvbrjI/AAAAAAAAMIc/7pstbImN2SAuS2T0ukJFXzAcIDo54MA4QCEw/s1600/20160806_215850.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oRyfWaxg1rU/V7bI5kvbrjI/AAAAAAAAMIc/7pstbImN2SAuS2T0ukJFXzAcIDo54MA4QCEw/s400/20160806_215850.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All done<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">I had mine with brown rice and steamed kale.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMXT62kdu1U/V7bMw2SXk8I/AAAAAAAAMI4/_pFRJDWTLIUtUlftYCjpkWCBHCotOnlQQCK4B/s1600/20160819_120311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZMXT62kdu1U/V7bMw2SXk8I/AAAAAAAAMI4/_pFRJDWTLIUtUlftYCjpkWCBHCotOnlQQCK4B/s400/20160819_120311.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Bon appétit!</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/Q5wQMrB8EjI" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/Q5wQMrB8EjI/foodie-fridays-pineapple-and-beef-stew.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/08/foodie-fridays-pineapple-and-beef-stew.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-3931133989396958192Tue, 14 Jun 2016 04:24:00 +00002016-06-14T07:24:26.472+03:00futureHealthMed schoolNairobi lifeparadigm shiftyou#Priorities<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S_X4iXzd1Qw/V1hYJxsgrqI/AAAAAAAALfE/rRyTNCQloBUsyB_UPC-hkNb05wizOKIhgCK4B/s1600/download%2B%25288%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-S_X4iXzd1Qw/V1hYJxsgrqI/AAAAAAAALfE/rRyTNCQloBUsyB_UPC-hkNb05wizOKIhgCK4B/s400/download%2B%25288%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">&nbsp; &nbsp;What are the things that keep you up at night? Are they your studies? Work? The simple task of feeding your kids from one day to the next? It took me a while to come to terms with the fact that for the average Kenyan, a little ache here or a pain there can wait. A cough that’s lasted for more than a month despite having drank an arsenal of cough syrups is only slightly worrisome. Please don’t get me started on our unhealthy tendency to self-medicate. I’m guilty of doing it myself. &nbsp;The average Kenyan goes to the hospital when the pain is so much that it wakes them up at night. When the headache starts affecting their sight. In other words, when they can’t put it off any longer. And who can blame them; they have bigger problems to worry about. They can’t afford to miss a day or even a morning of work to go to the hospital. They can’t afford transport to the nearest hospital or health centre. They have to choose between feeding themselves and their loved ones and taking a trip that may later end-up being unnecessary.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; And by the time they come to hospital, they are told that the headache, was really a stroke. The cough was really tuberculosis. That pain in their leg is now a bone infection that needs special (<i>Read: expensive</i>) antibiotics to treat. Do you know how frustrating it is to see a patient who’s developed something really complex, when the whole thing could have been prevented and treated rather simply if they’d only just come sooner. Do you know what it is to get halfway through a patient’s medical history, realise that their cancer is terminal while their relatives look hopefully at your ‘knowledgeable’ self. Fortunately, it’ll be a few months before I’ll have the responsibility of personally breaking such news on a regular basis, but it still sucks!</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; And sometimes the condition isn’t terminal, but the treatment will be super-expensive. And they don’t have insurance. And I’m not talking about the fancy private insurance companies that have billboards and TV ads. I’m talking about NHIF. An insurance scheme that’s available to almost anyone, has very friendly premium rates and subsidises and for wide range of tests and treatments in both public and private health facilities.&nbsp; It really saves from the hassle of having to look for money that isn’t readily available on-hand for tests that are urgent.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; My point is that we need to get to a point where health is a priority. To us and to the government. It’s cheaper to prevent illness that to treat it. Better health means that families don’t lose their breadwinners, children don’t become orphans and people are generally more productive. You’d think that a developing economy like ours would want its workers to be more productive by spending less time sick.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">We need to get to a point where we can save and prepare for a rainy day. Insurance seems like a hassle when you’re well but it’s such a relief when out of the blue you need to fork-out large amounts of cash for important diagnostic tests. And as medics we try. We maximise on our clinical skills just in case ‘fancy’ tests aren’t available to help us in diagnosis and management of a patient. But sometimes it only takes us so far.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; So just this once, reorder your priorities a little bit. Invest in insurance. Don’t ignore what your body is telling you. Don’t lean on the medical expertise that you don’t have. For more info on NHIF, visit their website: <a href="http://www.nhif.or.ke/">http://www.nhif.or.ke</a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Ciao...</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Photocredit: <a href="https://safestart.com/">https://safestart.com</a></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/Q6H_4Fao-dY" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/Q6H_4Fao-dY/priorities.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/06/priorities.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-9016896568051240124Thu, 09 Jun 2016 11:25:00 +00002016-06-09T14:25:02.315+03:00detailsmomentsNairobi lifeAbout that Nairobi brusqueness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K3NmcV4icwI/V1hQfPRcjVI/AAAAAAAALe0/PWT-5ZJ-4ksY_EhOIklJZyVbcrgy6Lq5QCK4B/s1600/download%2B%25287%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-K3NmcV4icwI/V1hQfPRcjVI/AAAAAAAALe0/PWT-5ZJ-4ksY_EhOIklJZyVbcrgy6Lq5QCK4B/s400/download%2B%25287%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="background: white;"><br /></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: calibri, sans-serif;">Brusque - Synonyms:&nbsp;</span><i>curt,&nbsp;abrupt,&nbsp;blunt,&nbsp;short,&nbsp;sharp,&nbsp;terse,&nbsp;peremptory,&nbsp;gruff;&nbsp;</i><br /> <span style="font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; font-size: 11.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: &quot;Times New Roman&quot;; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><i>offhand,&nbsp;discourteous,&nbsp;impolite, rude</i></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: calibri, sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: calibri, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">&nbsp;&nbsp;Being a Christian and a Nairobian is a delicate balancing act. On one hand I want to be kind and accommodating toward people. But on the other I'm hyper-aware of the rampant conman-ship we encounter on a daily&nbsp;basis. So you genuinely try to be concerned about the needs of other...but from a slight distance, you know. Just in case. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">&nbsp;&nbsp; I met a woman in the bus the other day. She was sitting next to me and I probably wouldn't have spoken to her if it wasn't for the fact that the bus ran out of fuel and abruptly stalled in the middle of the road....at 7.30 pm in the evening. And yes I’ll admit it. Up until that moment my face was firmly glued to my phone screen. So she sighed and asked me how she would get to the hospital (<i>Kenyatta National Hospital</i>) considering that the bus had stopped and was refusing to start. She was to meet somebody there and her phone was dead. I told her that there would be other buses passing the same route since we were quite close to a bus-stop. She then asked me where I was going. Alarm bells warranted or not went off in my head.&nbsp; She looked innocent enough but don't they always? I was also heading to the hospital but told her I was going to Upper hill, which was technically true considering that the hospital is <i>in</i> upper hill. I just wasn’t comfortable telling her that I was going the same place she was. One does not simply inform random strangers about their movements in this city okay. We’ve heard too many stories about that going badly for the over-trusting party. Unless you’re on foursquare. People on foursquare are forever telling us where they’re at. But I digress.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;The other passengers started alighting to see if they could catch another means of transport. I took this as my cue to leave and escape further conversation. You know,&nbsp;just in case she <i>was</i> trying to con me.<span class="apple-converted-space">&nbsp;I was seated at the window and had to go past her to get to the isle. I was halfway to freedom when </span>the driver asked us to wait because they had just gotten fuel (don’t ask me where from) and were just about to manually put it in the tank. So shuffled back to my seat and waited. Maybe I was just slightly less sceptical about her intentions than I had been a few minutes before. When we eventually left, she asked me to tell her when we got to the hospital. The rest of the ride was without incident. We got to the hospital and I gave her directions to the entrance. Turns out she wasn't a con woman after all. False alarm! She was just a stranger who needed some help and now I feel guilty for having misjudged her.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">&nbsp;&nbsp; But this story could have turned out very differently. Judging by the sheer number of warning forwards we distribute in a week, one could conclude that Nairobi either has a lot of people walking around with mal intent or that we are very paranoid as a populace. And rightly so! And it get’s exhausting having to have this guard up all the time. More so because I have one of those faces. You know the ones. Those wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly-she-must-be-someone-helpful kinds of faces. Which means strangers stop me to ask for directions and what-not more than they do with the average Kenyan. I’m serious people! I’ll give you statistics next time.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">&nbsp;&nbsp; So do I wish that we were a more trustworthy society? Yes I do. And that may be more idealistic than realistic, but allow that idealism for just a moment. And for all of you non-Kenyans who complain about Kenyans not being that friendly, now you know why. It’s not personal mate. We’ve just burned each other way too many times in the past.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;calibri&quot; , &quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Ciao...<o:p></o:p></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Photocredit:&nbsp;</span><span style="line-height: 18.4px;">http://searchengineland.com/</span></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/vdv2iulzkCg" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/vdv2iulzkCg/about-that-nairobi-brusqueness.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/06/about-that-nairobi-brusqueness.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-5605401227181397648Fri, 13 May 2016 10:22:00 +00002016-05-13T13:22:48.704+03:00FoodmomentsnostalgiaRecipesFoodie Fridays: Spaghetti in sausage with marinara sauce<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">&nbsp; &nbsp;It’s been a while since I made a Foodie Friday post. I could say it’s because I’ve been experimenting a lot with my palate. But mostly it’s because I’ve been busy. And hopefully you guys will get to see what my palate has discovered when I’m not busy.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; So I’m sure you saw this photo doing the rounds on Facebook a while back:</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SwPdZHKcvY4/VzTMs0AkKAI/AAAAAAAALRQ/LBQplwf4DUwuUUbRAH9fbtNz4DmpkImDwCK4B/s1600/octo-dog1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SwPdZHKcvY4/VzTMs0AkKAI/AAAAAAAALRQ/LBQplwf4DUwuUUbRAH9fbtNz4DmpkImDwCK4B/s400/octo-dog1.jpg" width="266" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><o:p>&nbsp;</o:p>&nbsp;Since that day this recipe has been a culinary goal for me. So yesterday I figured, why not! I borrowed the basic concept of the photo and combined it with what I know about pasta cooking and bam! This is what I got. So without further ado...</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Ingredients<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><i>For the pasta:<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">10 sausages sliced into thick chunks</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Spaghetti</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">4 cloves garlic finely chopped</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1 tablespoon of parsley</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">½ tablespoon salt</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1 tablespoon cooking oil</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">5 cups hot water</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><i>For the marinara sauce:<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1 large onion finely chopped</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">4 cloves garlic finely chopped</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1 table spoon butter</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">4 large ripe tomatoes</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Red chilli / Cayenne pepper to taste</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">½ teaspoon salt</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">1 teaspoon brown sugar</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">½ teaspoon vinegar</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"><b>Method</b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"><b><br /></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Slice the sausages into large chunks</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nTkleEJfmzk/VzTOQdXs9OI/AAAAAAAALSQ/RfGzKrSPbUEQ4ivbDn62thDsUyyf4A4uACK4B/s1600/20160512_180146-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nTkleEJfmzk/VzTOQdXs9OI/AAAAAAAALSQ/RfGzKrSPbUEQ4ivbDn62thDsUyyf4A4uACK4B/s400/20160512_180146-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Insert spaghetti into sausage chunks. The orderliness of the process doesn’t really matter. Arrange them in a sauce-pan like so:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EJnx58wZpaM/VzTOTUajLPI/AAAAAAAALSY/tBXVuOM6PfcwXcaH3cagLviICBTQ4oW6QCK4B/s1600/20160512_181855-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="260" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EJnx58wZpaM/VzTOTUajLPI/AAAAAAAALSY/tBXVuOM6PfcwXcaH3cagLviICBTQ4oW6QCK4B/s400/20160512_181855-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Add the garlic, parsley, salt, cooking oil and water.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Bring the water to a boil and reduce heat to medium. Cook for about 10 minutes.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L8aC0uHkVfc/VzTOsTD3TCI/AAAAAAAALSw/tQpiglxLJ9wPhvrly0mt9ileWiTXL9XlgCK4B/s1600/20160512_184533-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="261" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-L8aC0uHkVfc/VzTOsTD3TCI/AAAAAAAALSw/tQpiglxLJ9wPhvrly0mt9ileWiTXL9XlgCK4B/s400/20160512_184533-1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Drain the water and rinse pasta once with cold water.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->6.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->In a separate sauce-pan fry the onions and garlic in the butter until the onions and garlic are translucent.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->7.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Add the tomatoes and fry until they begin to form a rough paste. Add water as needed.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->8.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Add the pepper, salt, sugar and vinegar. Mix well.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gLnquyi6jSo/VzTOam8vgMI/AAAAAAAALSg/yYd7yMDXMi8moKl9PPAW6Da_Brl2lB9wACK4B/s1600/20160512_184326-1%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="353" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gLnquyi6jSo/VzTOam8vgMI/AAAAAAAALSg/yYd7yMDXMi8moKl9PPAW6Da_Brl2lB9wACK4B/s400/20160512_184326-1%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]-->9.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span><!--[endif]-->Serve hot.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pDfE6v5NJ1g/VzTPaYnsGaI/AAAAAAAALTE/qd8lQbzMWa896-TkIERgSElzSZtgWNmUwCK4B/s1600/20160512_205232.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pDfE6v5NJ1g/VzTPaYnsGaI/AAAAAAAALTE/qd8lQbzMWa896-TkIERgSElzSZtgWNmUwCK4B/s400/20160512_205232.jpg" width="385" /></a></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><o:p><br /></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Bon appétit!</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast"> </div><div class="MsoListParagraph"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoListParagraph"><br /></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/OCg3O936ULw" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/OCg3O936ULw/foodie-fridays-spaghetti-in-sausage.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/05/foodie-fridays-spaghetti-in-sausage.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-7042135925207318384Mon, 28 Mar 2016 22:11:00 +00002016-03-29T13:16:20.480+03:00detailsEpiphanyfutureGodLet-downsmomentsMoving onNew beginningsNitty grittyOptimismovercoming fearparadigm shiftrealisationself-confidenceyouCount your blessings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">&nbsp; Human beings are such ridiculously myopic beings. Whenever a public figure makes a mistake, we focus on that one incident and completely forget all the good they had previously done. It’s easier for us to focus on the bad in a situation and forget all the good. Even in our own personal lives. When something bad happens to us, we focus on it, lament about, worry about it, tell the whole world about it and promptly forget about anything else that was positive in our lives. I think the author of this hymn was onto that. Because the lyrics hit so close to home with an accuracy that is timeless. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W7bU5DPNXEo/Vvmq174YlFI/AAAAAAAAKxg/4_GgbfZaEbkre1drDATfRcykAtUCCHpEA/s1600/Phonto.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W7bU5DPNXEo/Vvmq174YlFI/AAAAAAAAKxg/4_GgbfZaEbkre1drDATfRcykAtUCCHpEA/s400/Phonto.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />&nbsp;&nbsp; There is something refreshing about counting one’s blessings. It’s a reminder that whatever situation you are in is really not that bad and that this too shall pass. It gives you the strength to go on. It reminds you that indeed God is still here and He is still good.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; So I don’t know about you, but I’ve made a decision to do it more regularly. For myself and for others. Maybe you should try it too. Maybe everybody should try it.</div><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Ciao...</div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/C6yFVXeB65Y" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/C6yFVXeB65Y/count-your-blessings.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/03/count-your-blessings.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-2081627995700746935Tue, 08 Mar 2016 09:28:00 +00002016-03-08T12:28:58.869+03:00detailsfuturemomentsNairobi lifeparadigm shiftrelationshipsyouDon't be that girl!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vgahxNCF1UM/VsbfR4UcC5I/AAAAAAAAKVU/Y4hMGSLb2KQ/s1600/African_American_Woman_Silhouette.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-vgahxNCF1UM/VsbfR4UcC5I/AAAAAAAAKVU/Y4hMGSLb2KQ/s400/African_American_Woman_Silhouette.png" width="351" /></a></div><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;My first encounter with sexism occurred when I was 12 years old. It was report-card day at the end of 2<sup>nd</sup> term and I was in class 7. This was an especially important report-card day because it was one short step to class 8 and everything was taken more seriously by the school. In-fact to prove just how serious things were, class 7s and 8s had to wear their school-uniforms while the rest of the school got to wear regular clothes! I was a bit nervous but not that much. I went to school with a pretty competitive bunch of kids so by this day after the marking, verification and revision of most exam papers; we’d taken the liberty of compiling a rough estimate of our total marks and averages. I knew I was in a good place. I just didn’t know how much.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; For the first time in a long time, I’d come first in my class! I told you I went to school with competitive kids. It was hard to maintain the top position for more than one or even two terms. We kept on shifting positions with every exam and the tying of positions happened a lot. So yeah, I’d beat the kid at the 2<sup>nd</sup>position by about 10 marks. We were elated. By we, I mean my mom and I, because you had to have a parent present. The class teacher was also pretty pleased too. He was the kind of teacher who pushed you to work hard and then maintain standards thereafter. He told us that the boy who was at no.2 had actually been in with his mom scarcely 30 minutes before us. He’d been holding the number 1 slot for a while and his mom was so shocked that she asked the teacher, “How could a girl beat my son?”</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; We told my dad the story and we laughed it off and they were proud of me for weeks after whilst pushing me to maintain my new-found academic success. When school opened I told my friends and they laughed it off too. And I never thought about the significance of that statement until years afterward. At 13, I had more trivial problems: Like how to get my hands on the next Harry Potter book and acne. I didn’t know what sexism, and misogyny and feminism were. I was aware that in some parts of Kenya and the world at large women were treated horribly for being women. And I knew that it wasn’t fair. But I was never actually told that there were things I couldn’t do because I was a girl. I have the kind of parents who push you to succeed whether you’re male, female or a potato! It really doesn’t matter. As long as you live under their roof, you do your best. And maybe I was pushed just a bit more because I <i>was </i>a girl, and the 90s and early 2000s were all about empowering the girl child.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; So back to the incident. Years later I wondered why she said it. Was it really so ludicrous for someone female to succeed in that way? Would it have been better if some other kid who wasn’t a girl had beaten her son? And why did she say that in the first place? She’s female too after all. So my first encounter with sexism was from a fellow woman. It really sounds trivial right now because it happened so long ago and didn’t scar me emotionally or anything and was a minor incident...but how many minor incidents like that happen every day? </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; Like the way female drivers who are competent at driving, make fun of their less competent counterparts. And thus it’s a running joke about how women are terrible drivers.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp; Or how married women and women in general sometimes shun single women who get pregnant out of wedlock. I personally believe in God’s design for the family within a marriage, but how quickly we forget that it takes two individuals for a baby to be conceived in the first place! When men have kids out of wedlock it’s either expected or praised.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; And what about how quickly we assume that any woman making it up the corporate ladder probably sleeps around. And generally there are women who sneer at successful women for being successful for reasons that I might have to speculate about in another blog-post.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; But these ‘minor’ incidents often build up leading to major incidences. That’s why they are so important.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp;Why be <i>that</i>girl? Magnifying the faults of someone with the same chromosomal pattern as you while you let the other 50% of the population get-away scot free with similar or even worse ‘offenses’. Here’s a thought: Maybe to some extent some men treat women horribly because we’ve shown them that it’s ok. We do it to ourselves thereby setting a baseline of expectations, so why should they treat us any differently if that is the normal they see? Now, <i>that</i> is reaping what you sow!</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; So please, if you are serious about change in society’s attitude towards women, don’t be <i>that</i> girl!</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Ciao...<br /><br /><o:p>Oh, and Happy International Women's day! &nbsp;</o:p><br /><div><span style="font-family: &quot;wingdings&quot;;"><br /></span></div></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xF_xzkjJIFQ/Vt6bHFCwkYI/AAAAAAAAKg4/zdrzZUSvp0I/s1600/international-womens-day-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xF_xzkjJIFQ/Vt6bHFCwkYI/AAAAAAAAKg4/zdrzZUSvp0I/s400/international-womens-day-2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /><o:p>Photo credit:&nbsp;http://www.wpclipart.com/</o:p></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/lLflIIZKuyk" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/lLflIIZKuyk/dont-be-that-girl.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)4http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/03/dont-be-that-girl.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-5448370323396727903Mon, 22 Feb 2016 05:00:00 +00002016-02-22T08:11:18.390+03:00changedetailsMed schoolmomentsNairobi lifeNitty gritty 9 ways med-school changes you<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-afkQXHod4hg/Vsbq5pifRPI/AAAAAAAAKWA/nsdiZ_A9neo/s1600/trust-me-i-m-a-medical-student.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-afkQXHod4hg/Vsbq5pifRPI/AAAAAAAAKWA/nsdiZ_A9neo/s400/trust-me-i-m-a-medical-student.png" width="342" /></a></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I've written about being in <a href="http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.co.ke/search/label/Med%20school" target="_blank">med-school</a> before and the things you <a href="http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.co.ke/2012/10/lessons-from-med-school.html" target="_blank">learn</a>. But I've never written about how it inadvertently changes you.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You: <o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">1.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Start using big words in every-day conversations. <o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Case-in-point: ‘inadvertent’ there above<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">2.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Choose comfort over style.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Depending on the activities of the day you may end up choosing these comfy flats that you can stand hours in instead of cute ballet flats, sandals or heels. Those you shall reserve for the weekend.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b>3.</b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;"><b>&nbsp;</b>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Lose most of your verbal filter.<br /></span></b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And therefore end-up often saying stuff that may shock non-medics. It's so normal to you that you only notice it when they give you the 'look'.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b>4.</b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Get used to strange meal-times.<br /></span></b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Early morning classes might mean breakfast at 8/9...despite the fact that you've been up since 5/6am. Lunch at 12/2pm because of surgeries or clinics become a regular thing.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b>5</b>.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Begin to collect a wide range of studs and other nondescript ear-wear.<br /></span></b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Because big hanging ear-rings can be an occupational hazard. That awkward moment when your stethoscope gets tangled-up in your loops and you nearly yank your ear off! Ouch!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b>6.</b><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Become the queen of buns and other up-dos.<br /></span></b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It's really frustrating trying to examine a patient and be taken seriously while your hair gets in the way. Also, body-fluids. Enough said!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">7.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Start pinning medicine-related stuff on pinterest!<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Because it's the easiest way to save all those helpful charts, diagrams and info-graphics that you find on the net so that you can download them later. I am living proof. Click <a href="https://www.pinterest.com/vallogz/" target="_blank">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;"><br /></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b>8</b>.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span><!--[endif]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Use your lab-coat to hide your questionable style-choices!&nbsp;</span></b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br />Or as a jacket on a windy day. Or as somewhere to stuff all the things you have to carry on your person. You have no idea how many times this has&nbsp; been a major save!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">9.<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></span></b><!--[endif]--><b><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">You discover that surgical scrubs are the most comfortable thing in your wardrobe.<o:p></o:p></span></b></div><div style="background: white; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt 0.5in; text-indent: -0.25in;"> </div><div style="background: white; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: &quot;Calibri&quot;,&quot;sans-serif&quot;; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Why can’t they make all clothes fit like that?!<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"> </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Ciao...<o:p></o:p></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/IQvReZzZ3_4" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/IQvReZzZ3_4/9-ways-med-school-changes-you.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/02/9-ways-med-school-changes-you.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-496980308107055719Tue, 16 Feb 2016 17:48:00 +00002016-02-17T12:43:26.817+03:00changedetailsEpiphanyfuturelistsmomentsMoving onNew beginningsNitty grittyparadigm shiftrealisationyouSuccessful adulting is:<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BdH2Rm6EGXs/VsNgcn3_2EI/AAAAAAAAKT4/dDw40bTCAVM/s1600/that-horrifying-moment-where-youre-looking-for-an-adult-but-then-realize-you-are-an-adult-so-you-look-for-an-older-adult-someone-successfully-adulting-an-adultier-adult-b7059.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BdH2Rm6EGXs/VsNgcn3_2EI/AAAAAAAAKT4/dDw40bTCAVM/s400/that-horrifying-moment-where-youre-looking-for-an-adult-but-then-realize-you-are-an-adult-so-you-look-for-an-older-adult-someone-successfully-adulting-an-adultier-adult-b7059.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">&nbsp;&nbsp;Forgive the apparent typo, but there really is no better way to express this than by the use of a recently-coined millennial verb. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the word ‘adulting’ made its way into next year’s edition of the oxford dictionary. We seem to be borrowing so much from pop culture these days. Now for everyone born before 1980, according to urban dictionary ‘adulting’ can be defined as ‘<b><i>doing grown-up things and holding responsibilities such as, a 9-5 job, a mortgage/rent, a car payment, or anything else that makes one think of grown ups</i></b>’. </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Okay? All good? Now that we’re on the same page allow me to make my list.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpLast">&nbsp;&nbsp; Successful adulting is:</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>1.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Pretending to know what you’re doing 80% of the time and actually knowing what you’re doing only 20% of the time.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">I have early childhood memories of my parents being total ninjas at stuff. I recently found myself in similar situations and shockingly realised just how much of a coin-toss said ninja activities are! Well, at least I have Google.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>2.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Buying your own darn groceries. <o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">Especially if you’re not living with mom and dad. Failure to plan to do so and comply will lead to very questionable dinner choices. </div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>3.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Becoming really concerned about your parents’ health.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">This has got to be the most significant role-reversal. You’re daily bombarded by health and disease statistics and you suddenly realise that your childhood super-heroes don’t necessarily have that much super in them. i.e.: They’re not indestructible. So yeah, you start nagging them about eating their vegetables and stuff!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><i>And on that note:<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>4.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Eating your vegetables.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">You get to that point where junk food just doesn’t do it for you anymore and exercise becomes a real consideration.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>5.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Loving your sleep<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">Cat-naps in the afternoon. Lie-in weekends. You really don’t have the stamina for staying up all night. Not without sleeping-in or crashing the next day. Those all-night movie marathons? Can’t handle them anymore!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>6.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Accepting that you will have to fork-out money to pay for a cab if you’ve been out way too late to take the bus<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">Assuming that you don’t have a car and that car-pooling is not an option. Neither is calling ‘somebody’ to pick you up; because ‘somebody’ is not always available!</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>7.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Making actual decisions and standing by them consequences or not.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">You don’t always have a get-out-of-jail-free card and sometimes the best-laid plans fail. But it’s ok. You pick yourself up, dust yourself off and move on.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>8.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Letting go of people and situations that need to be left behind.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">You just can’t have it all.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>9.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>The horrifying realisation that in some way you are now a role-model.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">You probably didn’t sign-up for it and you might not always know what that entails or if you are doing it right. This is probably your cue to get your own role-model.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>10.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Having to prioritise <o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">What takes up your time, energy and money has to be carefully selected because you have a limited amount of each.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>11.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Knowing that the News in whatever form is important<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">Because there are people out there making decisions that affect you and knowledge is power.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>12.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>Working to be a better person.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">For your future spouse and kids.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;"><!--[if !supportLists]--><b><i>13.<span style="font-size: 7pt; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal;">&nbsp;&nbsp; </span></i></b><!--[endif]--><b><i>The small victories as well as the big.<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">They give you the confidence to do even more and make all the fumbling about worth it.</div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast"><br /></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Ciao...</div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/DGbLOAAnduI" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/DGbLOAAnduI/successful-adulting-is.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/02/successful-adulting-is.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-8185688315578834864Mon, 18 Jan 2016 11:20:00 +00002016-01-18T14:20:39.687+03:00Book reviewslistsmomentsWhat it's like to be a book-lover <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wB9PDVQ1q4M/VpJEjuQORTI/AAAAAAAAILE/w44V29Q0ojw/s1600/Screenshot_2016-01-10-14-42-00-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="280" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wB9PDVQ1q4M/VpJEjuQORTI/AAAAAAAAILE/w44V29Q0ojw/s400/Screenshot_2016-01-10-14-42-00-1.png" width="400" /></a></div><div dir="ltr"><b><br /></b></div><div dir="ltr"><b>1. You instantly become best friends with someone who has the same taste in books as you.</b> </div><div dir="ltr">I have made several friends this way. </div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wp3o1eRd2lA/VpUWHEe3MQI/AAAAAAAAILs/ESCrFMrLAgc/s1600/friendship%2Bcs%2Blewis.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wp3o1eRd2lA/VpUWHEe3MQI/AAAAAAAAILs/ESCrFMrLAgc/s400/friendship%2Bcs%2Blewis.jpg" width="356" /></a></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><b>2. So many books. ..so little time</b>. <br />Life often gets in the way of your reading. </div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j7hf6J_bFU8/VpUX_5SiNKI/AAAAAAAAIL8/dhQNC0dFqi0/s1600/resized_hipster-ariel-meme-generator-too-many-books-not-enough-time-efb605.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j7hf6J_bFU8/VpUX_5SiNKI/AAAAAAAAIL8/dhQNC0dFqi0/s400/resized_hipster-ariel-meme-generator-too-many-books-not-enough-time-efb605.jpg" width="387" /></a></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><b>3.&nbsp; The agony of waiting.&nbsp;</b></div><div dir="ltr">When you read a book that's part of a series and it ends in a cliffhanger but the next book in the series isn't due to be published for at least a year. It's a struggle between valuing the author's creativity and needing your next great book fix. </div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PAcMktgeu88/VpUYmmGSg5I/AAAAAAAAIMI/JtXfntG_sQU/s1600/But-why.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PAcMktgeu88/VpUYmmGSg5I/AAAAAAAAIMI/JtXfntG_sQU/s400/But-why.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><b>4. You take it personally when the movie adaptation is a total flop. </b><br />We have long accepted that movie adaptations will never be perfect but we still have standards.</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dahdi7Ofcxc/VgBh-oHo1pI/AAAAAAAAHQ8/hKMUvCNuImQ/s1600/9cf1ee6b-b65a-42b5-94d5-4ed1d001572f.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dahdi7Ofcxc/VgBh-oHo1pI/AAAAAAAAHQ8/hKMUvCNuImQ/s400/9cf1ee6b-b65a-42b5-94d5-4ed1d001572f.jpeg" width="400" /></a></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><b>5. Finding a book that surprises you.&nbsp;</b></div><div dir="ltr">After a while this becomes the challenge. You've read so many volumes that you can spot a clichè storyline a mile&nbsp; away</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gPTzDEqddRE/VpUd7DbNZ8I/AAAAAAAAIMc/QD9-gWJ4wvE/s1600/Unique%2Bplots%2Bvenn%2Bdiagram.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="207" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gPTzDEqddRE/VpUd7DbNZ8I/AAAAAAAAIMc/QD9-gWJ4wvE/s400/Unique%2Bplots%2Bvenn%2Bdiagram.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><b>6. Walking into a bookshop while broke.</b><br />Absolute torture. And even when you do have money,&nbsp; it's never enough for all the books you would like to buy</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--BYd_k-2yiA/VpUZOLQPV0I/AAAAAAAAIMU/gFsJpCM1R-U/s1600/Bankruptcy_monopoly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="225" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--BYd_k-2yiA/VpUZOLQPV0I/AAAAAAAAIMU/gFsJpCM1R-U/s400/Bankruptcy_monopoly.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's like playing monopoly and this happens</td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr"><b>7. Becoming emotionally attached to fictional characters.</b> </div><div dir="ltr">You laugh when they do and cry when they do and become absolutely devastated when they die. </div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hxVlPmZRXXE/VpUeTc12ZxI/AAAAAAAAIMo/TwpS8xuGAiU/s1600/abc62abd8581b03ccd23253908b5be0b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="336" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hxVlPmZRXXE/VpUeTc12ZxI/AAAAAAAAIMo/TwpS8xuGAiU/s400/abc62abd8581b03ccd23253908b5be0b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><b>8. You make quotes that other people don't </b><b>understand</b>.<br />..unless they've read the same books you have</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5aPnG3DEtTM/VpUe84tsiII/AAAAAAAAIM4/_OJ0VdMhXuc/s1600/1d30d285f23781f9f6036d19dd326cabb5cfbeb2758cec48c14af52314bb90e6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5aPnG3DEtTM/VpUe84tsiII/AAAAAAAAIM4/_OJ0VdMhXuc/s400/1d30d285f23781f9f6036d19dd326cabb5cfbeb2758cec48c14af52314bb90e6.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><b>9. Finding a nice peaceful quiet place to read.&nbsp; </b><br />For some reason people tend to seek you out when you're trying to read! </div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr"><b>10. Being mistaken for being antisocial.</b><br />There is a time for everything. Some of us just happen to be completely comfortable sitting in absolute silence for extended periods of time with our noses buried in a book or pressed against a tablet screen.</div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NnE95S_zMbI/VpUf6PvOHzI/AAAAAAAAINE/_zay3ew76vU/s1600/a0b2fbb3d38bf1f1a5ffc075a264c49d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="310" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NnE95S_zMbI/VpUf6PvOHzI/AAAAAAAAINE/_zay3ew76vU/s400/a0b2fbb3d38bf1f1a5ffc075a264c49d.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div dir="ltr"><br /></div><div dir="ltr">&nbsp;&nbsp; I hope this has helped you understand the book-lovers in your life a bit more. For more tips on how not to interact with a book lover click <a href="http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.co.ke/2015/09/things-you-shouldnt-do-while.html" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />And for all the bibliophiles who identify with this, feel free to comment below. <br />Ciao...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/f3_y4XpcFSM" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/f3_y4XpcFSM/what-its-like-to-be-book-lover.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)1http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/01/what-its-like-to-be-book-lover.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-491197694177803991Thu, 14 Jan 2016 10:22:00 +00002016-01-14T13:23:42.540+03:00changedetailsmomentsNew beginningsovercoming fearparadigm shiftself-confidenceyouJust saying no<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YMl5GNkucC8/VpUt5hAIcyI/AAAAAAAAINg/AYmUCpCu5Uo/s1600/no.png" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="325" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YMl5GNkucC8/VpUt5hAIcyI/AAAAAAAAINg/AYmUCpCu5Uo/s400/no.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">&nbsp; &nbsp;The other day I was in a Matatu headed to town, my nose deep in a book. This gentleman sat down next to me while having a lengthy phone conversation. At some point during the ride he finished his conversation, disconnected the phone and turned to me. Our conversation went something like this:</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Him: &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; How are you?<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto; tab-stops: 0in .5in; text-indent: -.5in;"><b>Me:</b>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *<i>pretends not to hear</i>* </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto; tab-stops: 0in .5in; text-indent: -.5in;">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; (<i>Because this is Nairobi and I’m not particularly in the habit of talking to random strangers. Also, he might be trying to hit on me. There was something about the way he said that statement; how are you?</i>)</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto; tab-stops: 0in .5in; text-indent: -.5in;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Him:</b> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *<i>A bit louder</i>* </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <b>How are you?<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Me:</b> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *<i>sighs inwardly, replies tersely</i>* </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <b>I’m fine <o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *<i>Turns back to book immediately in an effort to discourage further conversation</i>*</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Him: &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I’m</b> <b>John<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Me:</b> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *<i>Continues to read book</i>*</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Him: &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Would you mind giving me your name?</b> (<i>So he was trying to hit on me</i>)</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: .5in; mso-add-space: auto; tab-stops: 0in .5in; text-indent: -.5in;"><b>Me:</b>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>*Briefly contemplates giving a fake name because I sure wasn’t going to give my real one. Proceeds to have an inward monologue: Why should I give him any name at all? He’s a stranger, whom I don’t feel comfortable talking to. Surely societal norms don’t dictate politeness to this extent! How about we just go with the truth Val? What’s the worst that could happen? He get’s mad? Thinks you’re too proud? It’s 2016 for goodness sake! You should be able to speak your mind freely!* <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; (Note: this entire monologue took place within the span of 2 seconds...and then I replied)<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <b>Yes, I do mind<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Him: &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; What?<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Me:&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I mind. I don’t want to give you my name <o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *<i>turns back to book</i>*</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Him:</b> &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <b>Pole sana kama nimekukosea</b> (<i>I’m very sorry if I have wronged you in any way</i>)</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Me:</b> <i>*still facing book*</i> </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <b>Ni sawa</b> (<i>It’s ok</i>)</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">*<i>Conductor comes round to collect fare*<o:p></o:p></i><br /><i><br /></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Him:</b>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; <i>*addressing the conductor* <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><i>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; </i><b>Wawili</b> <i>(I’ll pay for two)<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b>Me: &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Hapana, nitajilipia</b>(<i>No, I will pay for myself</i>) </div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; *I hand the conductor my fare leaving no room for arguement*</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; Needless to say, the bus ride was uneventful after this. He went on making phone calls, and I went on reading my book. But maybe there is a need to say how uneventful it was. Because sometimes in this country when a random man tries to talk to you and you ignore him, you get insulted. Or worse, sometimes things turn violent. So we have a society of women who try to be ‘polite’ to avoid drama and the situation turning dangerous; and a society of men, some of who may feel entitled to having a woman reciprocate whatever interest they may show. There’s something very wrong with that picture. This is the culture we need to say no to.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; Maybe it’s the fact that the book I was reading that day was ‘Americanah’ by Chimamanda and I was feeling a little bold. But we need to come to a point where both genders are respected equally. A point where rejection doesn’t shatter egos and doesn’t become a pride issue. A point where '<i><b>no</b></i>' means '<b><i>no</i></b>' and 50% of the population is able to say that without the fear of any backlash. I think we all know what 50% I’m talking about.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Ciao...</div><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/IF-w7Hnvvoo" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/IF-w7Hnvvoo/just-saying-no.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/01/just-saying-no.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-175895445796996448Tue, 12 Jan 2016 15:01:00 +00002016-01-21T13:07:49.614+03:00Book reviewsBook Review: La Prisonniere by Malika Oufkir and Michele Fitoussi <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-loA4St_G_as/VpFLqHJ_q-I/AAAAAAAAIKw/0SIpckMk19k/s1600/Screenshot_2016-01-09-20-58-00-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-loA4St_G_as/VpFLqHJ_q-I/AAAAAAAAIKw/0SIpckMk19k/s400/Screenshot_2016-01-09-20-58-00-1.png" width="281"></a></div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">&nbsp;&nbsp; I've always been fascinated by stories like these. Stories about women who really went through stuff that would break anyone and still survived against all odds. Stories set in parts of the world I'd only heard about. Sure, Google images helps but nothing beats a narration of first hand experience. Stories like Arthur Golden's '<a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/930.Memoirs_of_a_Geisha" target="_blank">Memoirs of a geisha</a>' which I read as a teenager. This book firmly falls into this category. </div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><div dir="ltr">&nbsp;&nbsp; La Prissonniere caught my attention because of the title.&nbsp; It's the way I'm drawn to all things French. The book details the imprisonment of Malika Oufkir, her five siblings and their mother in the Moroccan desert for 20 years because her father staged a failed coup attempt against the then Moroccan king.&nbsp; The oldest was 18 years while the youngest was just 3 years old.&nbsp; Talk&nbsp; about sins of the father! All this despite the fact that she had practically been raised as a princess in the king's household. The descriptions of Morrocco are so detailed that you can see everything in your mind's eye. I really would recommend this book to anyone with curiosity about Morocco in the 60s and 70s.</div><div dir="ltr">Ciao....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/_iyCEzhJ8rM" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/_iyCEzhJ8rM/book-review-la-prisonniere-by-malika.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/01/book-review-la-prisonniere-by-malika.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-6278086483270068313Tue, 12 Jan 2016 12:40:00 +00002016-01-12T15:41:43.744+03:00changedetailsFamilyfriendsfutureGodLovemomentsNitty grittyparadigm shiftrealisationrelationshipsyouSpeak life and surround yourself with people who do the same<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VDnornjpsXo/VpJOmUO3sII/AAAAAAAAILU/setcX5IxgkA/s1600/Screenshot_2016-01-10-15-25-01-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VDnornjpsXo/VpJOmUO3sII/AAAAAAAAILU/setcX5IxgkA/s400/Screenshot_2016-01-10-15-25-01-1.png" width="400" /></a></div><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;I was reading an post by one of my favourite bloggers about <a href="http://www.thefulltimegirl.com/2015/12/30/loving-god-hurt-church/" target="_blank">how to keep loving God even after people in the church have hurt you</a>. She says that bad people make bad choices but God is still good. And I felt it resonating with so many of the things I've been thinking about this past year and some of the things I'd seen people around me go through. We canonize individuals and raise them onto this pedestal of religious perfection while conveniently forgetting that they are human beings. Human beings fail...human beings are not good. They sure do try to be but the only person who is infallibly good despite all variables is God. People will dissapoint. Maybe not today, not tommorrow but someday. Maybe in a big way or a little way, but somehow. Because people are human, all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. So when all is said and done and they dissapoint we take it really hard because in our minds they were supposed to be be perfect. <br /><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;So the thing is, pick someone who's dissapointment you can bear. We often build friendships on trivial things: popularity, shared interests, status. And we ignore the things that really matter: character and values. So when the same shallow people stab us in the back we are shocked. I don't know why, but we are. There's a swahili phrase for that: <i><b>Msiba wa kujitakia</b></i>. It basically means that you've brought it on yourself. I know it sounds harsh but that's truth. Life can be harsh. It's not one big happy musical. Choices have consequences..even trivial ones like 'who to spend time with'. So many verses in the psalms are dedicated to talking about choosing suitable company because even back then it way clear that those who surround you can make or break you. Have you read Job's story? My point exactly.<br /><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;Human beings are social beings and that means that on some level, whether we admit it or not we're constantly looking for approval...mostly from our peers. And that might mean one of two things:<br /><br /><i><b>A.</b> Conforming to our peers expectations and ideals so we can fit in.</i><br />or<br /><i><b>B.</b> Surrounding ourselves with people who's ideals match our own.</i><br /><br /> The danger with option A is that your peers might try to ridicule you and beat you down if your opinion is contrary to their own. Or you might end up doing the exact opposite of what God expects as you try to fit in. Going against your morals and resenting yourself for it at the end of the day. Like I said, people aren't perfect...so doesn't it make more sense to put your faith in someone who is?<br /><br /><br />&nbsp; &nbsp;And to go a step further, why not choose to surround yourself with folks who build you up instead of break you? People who have your best interests at heart. People who'll <b>tell you the truth in love</b> when it comes down to it, without malice and instead of needlessly buffing your ego. People who speak life into you.<br /><br /><br /><div>&nbsp; &nbsp;And why not be the kind of person who'd do the same for them? Birds of a feather flock together and at the end of it all you attract what you are. So why not be someone who speaks life and loves their friends unconditionally, just as Christ did. <br /><br /><i><b>1st Thessalonians 5:11</b><br />Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.</i><br />Ciao...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> </div></div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/CU6Z3AAVHn0" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/CU6Z3AAVHn0/speak-life-and-surround-yourself-with.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2016/01/speak-life-and-surround-yourself-with.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-3903092403912993340Fri, 11 Dec 2015 17:04:00 +00002015-12-11T20:25:54.298+03:00IndiaNitty grittynostalgiaWanderlustyouTales from India part 4: What it's like to be black in India<p dir="ltr">&nbsp;***Click here for <a href="http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.co.ke/2015/11/tales-from-india-part-1-culture-shock.html?m=1">part 1</a>, <a href="http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.co.ke/2015/11/tales-from-india-part-2-things-that-you.html?m=1">part 2</a> and <a href="http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.co.ke/2015/12/tales-from-india-part-3-about-that-time.html?m=1">part 3</a>***</p><p dir="ltr">&nbsp;I'm black! That's something I've never really been consciously aware of. I've been aware of the fact that I'm female and that it might cause situations to turn out differently as a result. I've been aware of my class. I've been aware of my tribe. But never in my life has the colour of my skin and the texture of my hair been on the spotlight. In Americanah Chimamanda says that Africans only become aware of their blackness when they leave Africa. And I found that surprisingly true!</p><p dir="ltr">&nbsp;&nbsp; Reception about the colour of your skin in India depends on who you encounter. If you meet an Indian one of three things is likely to happen:</p><p dir="ltr"><b>1. They stare</b>. <br>My friends and I have stopped entire market places and shops just because the people around stopped to guffaw at our blackness. All this despite the fact that I've seen South Indians with skin darker than my own.&nbsp; If you're lucky,&nbsp; that's all that happens. I have a friend who was on a plane to Delhi and an Indian couple switched seats just&nbsp; so they wouldn't have to sit next to her. <br>We had people randomly take pictures of us as they passed or drove by without even asking for permission. <br>So yeah,&nbsp; staring is getting off easy. </p><p dir="ltr"><b>2. They get super excited</b>. <br>Mostly about our braided hair.&nbsp; I cannot count the number of times i was asked how it is done. Or&nbsp; if i did it that way every morning and how long it took.&nbsp; Or if that was my real hair.&nbsp; I also cannot count the number of times that we all shamelessly replied with a yes to that question! <br>Then they ask you where you're from,&nbsp; and how you find India. <br>They talk about how awesome the Kenyan cricket team is and they know the players better than we do (<i>Honestly, I know we have a cricket team but I've never really given them any mind. And&nbsp; now i feel so unpatriotic! Better google them</i>) <br>They kept thinking that a certain tall Luo brother of ours was either Sudanese and Nigerian.<br>Occasionally, they politely ask to take a photo with you. </p><p dir="ltr"><b>3. Nothing</b>.&nbsp; <br>They treat you like anybody else and life goes on. </p><p dir="ltr">&nbsp;&nbsp; If you meet a fellow African,&nbsp; they could:</p><p dir="ltr"><b>1. Smile/wave.&nbsp; </b><br>As if to say, "Hey,&nbsp; I'm from the motherland too! I get your struggle!". Sometimes they go as far as saying an actual hello.</p><p dir="ltr"><b>2. Stare at you then breeze right past</b>. Seriously,&nbsp; what is up with that? !</p><p dir="ltr"><b>3. Engage you in conversation. </b><br>This happened to me once. I was standing&nbsp; with a friend at the entrance of a shop in Bangalore, and these two ladies came up and introduced themselves.&nbsp;&nbsp; They told us&nbsp; that they were from the Ivory coast.&nbsp; They Asked about where we were from and where we were staying and how our experience had been. This just gave me the warm fuzzies.</p><p dir="ltr">&nbsp;&nbsp; So that was my experience with blackness. I cannot describe the sudden relief of being surrounded my so many people of the same skin tone at the JKIA arrivals terminal. It was normalcy after weeks of occasionally sticking out like a sore thumb. But I can say that being different did not dampen my experience of India.&nbsp; I still had a great time and I learned not to take the stares too personally.<br>Ciao...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> <a href="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C7sArNHMcak/VmsHIBJyk8I/AAAAAAAAIJA/Je-Jb-sxHMU/s1600/IMG_20151211_202333.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" src="http://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-C7sArNHMcak/VmsHIBJyk8I/AAAAAAAAIJA/Je-Jb-sxHMU/s640/IMG_20151211_202333.jpg"> </a> </div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/KtK-azD82fQ" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/KtK-azD82fQ/tales-from-india-part-4-what-it-like-to.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2015/12/tales-from-india-part-4-what-it-like-to.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-7630400965296994619Thu, 10 Dec 2015 08:53:00 +00002015-12-10T11:53:50.375+03:00detailsfriendsholidaysIndiaLet-downsmomentsNitty grittynostalgiaovercoming fearWanderlustTales from India part 3: About that time when my life turned into a disaster movie!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">***Click here for <a href="http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.co.ke/2015/11/tales-from-india-part-1-culture-shock.html" target="_blank">part 1</a> and <a href="http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.co.ke/2015/11/tales-from-india-part-2-things-that-you.html" target="_blank">part 2</a>***</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mNOBFCibIF4/Vmk5y_XyjLI/AAAAAAAAIGk/e7b2CgygsSo/s1600/11012855_1063417930347851_7989769014489424189_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mNOBFCibIF4/Vmk5y_XyjLI/AAAAAAAAIGk/e7b2CgygsSo/s400/11012855_1063417930347851_7989769014489424189_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Chennai airport during the floods...It was shut down!</b></td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; This week a friend asked me how I've been. That was a interesting question. The answer is a bit complicated.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp;&nbsp; See, These are the things they&nbsp; don't tell you in disaster flicks. You're phone will not be fully charged. No you will not have power. Your kitchen will not be fully stocked with enough non-perishables to last you the whole time. And mother nature is unpredictable!<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;<br />&nbsp; Those who have been&nbsp; to Chennai, India know that they basically built a city on a marshland with zero drainage. It started insidiously really. It rained on Monday evening,&nbsp; and the whole of Tuesday. A cyclone apparently. Then on Tuesday evening they opened 3 dams and shut off the power telling us it would be restored by Wednesday morning . So was I worried with my phone battery at 30%? Nah! The fact that our usual take-out joints wouldn't&nbsp; deliver food because of the water level was a mild inconvenience. I had cereal for dinner and chatted with friends before going to sleep, confident that things would be back to normal the next day.</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; Boy, was I wrong!&nbsp; On Wednesday we woke up to&nbsp; 2-metre deep water on the ground floor and on the street. Rain water mixed in with swamp water and sewerage into one smelly mess surrounding us on all sides! Don't get&nbsp; me started on the Water snakes that were having free reign all over the place. We regularly saw them darting from one point to another. We spent 4 nights holed up in an apartment building in Pallikaranai, Chennai with no electricity and limited food and drinking water. At some point, the taps began to run dry. The guys in our group and some of the apartment&nbsp; maintenance staff gallantly volunteered to go on food runs. Food runs that nevertheless meant one meal a day. ..and maybe some dry cereal when the hunger really got to you. This was the point when prioritization skills were really put to the test!&nbsp; We went as far as getting relief food from the Indian government on Friday: fried rice and biscuits. I really have done it all!</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZqupuovfLRk/Vmk5F_daJcI/AAAAAAAAIF0/GnAi_ur2rNI/s1600/IMG-20151210-WA0022%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZqupuovfLRk/Vmk5F_daJcI/AAAAAAAAIF0/GnAi_ur2rNI/s400/IMG-20151210-WA0022%255B1%255D.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Outside our apartment...Thursday</b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--ksOr-V2QY4/Vmk5Uz5NxpI/AAAAAAAAIGU/qoIIb6oa8S4/s1600/IMG-20151210-WA0017%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--ksOr-V2QY4/Vmk5Uz5NxpI/AAAAAAAAIGU/qoIIb6oa8S4/s400/IMG-20151210-WA0017%255B1%255D.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>Neighbouring buildings</b></td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LRSYayJt2hk/Vmk5MbIi4yI/AAAAAAAAIGE/jxj1Tt9iLFE/s1600/IMG-20151210-WA0020%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LRSYayJt2hk/Vmk5MbIi4yI/AAAAAAAAIGE/jxj1Tt9iLFE/s400/IMG-20151210-WA0020%255B1%255D.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>On the roof: Surveying our situation, trying to get cell reception and pass the time</b></td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><span style="font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp;Most of our phone batteries died, and network became shaky, it came and went when you least expected it. But we managed to get in touch with the Kenyan high commission and our parents back home. Which led to our being evacuated to Bangalore on Saturday morning. Complete with Indian cops overseeing the process and photos and videos of us being taken. Another hotel had to be booked and flights had to be rescheduled on short notice. This became easier once we were in Bangalore because we could now communicate freely with the folks back home and get things done.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp;&nbsp; I know this story sounds pretty dramatic.&nbsp; And it was dramatic. But we got through intact. With high spirits, laughing and making jokes even when things were uncertain, praying. And it became the thing that solidified our camaraderie. The thing that we will endlessly tell our kids about. The thing that took the act of being an adult to a whole new level. So no, i don't regret going to Chennai. And as to the question of how I've been? Pretty darn fantastic!</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">Ciao...</div><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6XMCG4hRnhU/Vmk89ZnnVBI/AAAAAAAAIGw/-lc51saeM5c/s1600/3267c2a0-ae2e-4b1f-9105-335c06a93891.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6XMCG4hRnhU/Vmk89ZnnVBI/AAAAAAAAIGw/-lc51saeM5c/s400/3267c2a0-ae2e-4b1f-9105-335c06a93891.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b>In Bangalore</b></td></tr></tbody></table><div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12.8px;">&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;</div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/zqq-79M4Vtg" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/zqq-79M4Vtg/tales-from-india-part-3-about-that-time.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)1http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2015/12/tales-from-india-part-3-about-that-time.htmltag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6828101320938859596.post-1280741710515779084Sat, 28 Nov 2015 07:23:00 +00002015-11-28T10:23:37.522+03:00changedetailsEpiphanyFamilyfriendsGodLoveNitty grittyparadigm shiftrealisationrelationshipsyouMaybe we rebuke too much and correct too little<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ULRDVd3DDyk/VllWEI_wGDI/AAAAAAAAHfw/9UI500jRKWc/s1600/RiGgxboiL.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ULRDVd3DDyk/VllWEI_wGDI/AAAAAAAAHfw/9UI500jRKWc/s400/RiGgxboiL.png" width="400" /></a></div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><b><i>&nbsp;&nbsp;</i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst"><b><i>&nbsp;2nd Timothy 3:16-17<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b><i>&nbsp;All Scripture&nbsp;is&nbsp;given by inspiration of God, and&nbsp;is&nbsp;profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for correction, for instruction in righteousness,&nbsp;&nbsp;that the man of God may be complete, thoroughly equipped for every good work. (NKJV)<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span class="text"><span style="background: white;">&nbsp;&nbsp; I came across this verse as I was doing my morning Quiet time. I'm currently reading one chapter a day, going from one New Testament book to the other. I started with Romans a few months ago and I'm currently on 2nd Timothy. As of now, my plan is to go to the end of the New testament, then go back to the gospels before starting the Old Testament. A bit unorthodox, I know but it works for me. But I digress.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span class="text"><span style="background: white;">&nbsp;&nbsp; So I came across this verse this morning and then it struck a thought! I googled the NIV version of the same verse for the sake of comparison and it says this:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><i>All Scripture is God-breathed&nbsp;and is useful for teaching,&nbsp;rebuking, correcting and training in righteousness,&nbsp;17&nbsp;so that the servant of God[&nbsp;may be thoroughly equipped for every good work. (NIV)<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span class="text"><span style="background: white;">According to google, To rebuke is to ''</span></span><i><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">express sharp disapproval or criticism of (someone) because of their behaviour or actions</span></i><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">''<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">While to correct is to "<i>put right (an error or fault)</i>''<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Obviously, Rebuking is more aggressive, while correcting sounds like something a mother would do to her 3-year old when they try to eat dirt. Yet both seem to have their time and place when it comes to our interactions with each other. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Rebuking sounds like a last resort, when one's behaviour has gotten completely out of hard. It's like radical surgery to remove a highly malignant tumour. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Correcting sounds like first aid for bad behaviour. It's useful for mild cases that get completely sorted by simple measures. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">So I posit that correction is what we're meant to do in the early stages, before sin takes root...and rebuking maybe comes a bit later...when one has ignored all past correction. It's a possible last resort.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><span style="background: white; color: #222222; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">But never mind me, what else does the bible say about the subject?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b><i>Proverbs 27:5<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b><i>Better is open rebuke than hidden love. (NIV)</i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">So we are definitely meant to correct and rebuke our brothers and sisters. This whole hullabaloo about protecting your loved-ones feelings doesn't really help when their sin gets them to a place of suffering and heart-ache. And the feeling of betrayal is usually so bad when they eventually realize the faults that you never bothered to tell them about.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b><i>Galatians 6:1<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b><i>Brothers and sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore&nbsp;that person gently. But watch yourselves, or you also may be tempted. (NIV)<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">and</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b><i>2nd Thessalonians 3:15</i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b><i>Yet do not regard them as an enemy, but warn them as you would a fellow believer. (NIV)<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">But we should do it in love. Basically put yourself in their shoes. If you had messed up as badly as they had messed up, how would you want to be corrected? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">&nbsp;&nbsp; And for the person being corrected or rebuked:</div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b><i>Hebrews 12: 5-6<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b><i>And have you completely forgotten this word of encouragement that addresses you as a father addresses his son? It says,<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle"><b><i>“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and do not lose heart&nbsp;when he rebukes you,<br />6&nbsp;because the Lord disciplines the one he loves,<br />&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son.” (NIV)<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">When God is trying to rebuke us about something, we usually know it. Deep down we know exactly what we've done and when no matter how much they shame we feel keeps us from admitting it. That's conviction. &nbsp;And sometimes, God sends people to rebuke/correct us. Remember King Ahab and Elijah? But He also speaks to us directly and we'll get the message if we know how to listen. So just keep an open mind ok? I'd like to say that it's not personal, but it is. The creator of the universe stepping in to keep you from a path that leads to eternal damnation? It really doesn't get more personal than that!</div><br /><div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">Ciao...</div></div><img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~4/auAm6jfsBcQ" height="1" width="1" alt=""/>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/randomthoughtsnrb/~3/auAm6jfsBcQ/maybe-we-rebuke-too-much-and-correct.htmlnoreply@blogger.com (Vallery Logedi)0http://randomthoughtsnrb.blogspot.com/2015/11/maybe-we-rebuke-too-much-and-correct.html